Never be bullied into silence

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Never be bullied into silence pillow

I saw this image on Facebook yesterday, and it was a powerful message for me, not just as a gay man who has been told many times by people to just stay in the closet because people like to keep thinking we don’t exist, but also as a child abuse survivor who was basically told I’m not allowed to tell my story.

My sister had some guy write a review of my book on Amazon, but it wasn’t just a review, it was an attack on me personally. He said that I am lying to my readers about an abuse that never occurred. How does he know? He wasn’t even there. But he told me in his review to change the genre of my book from autobiography to fiction because it’s all lies.

I will never be bullied into silence. I’m not going to remove my book from Amazon, which by the way you can read for free with Amazon Prime or Kindle Unlimited. I’m not going to change the genre of my book to fiction because it’s not fiction. Every story in my book is true, and I honestly don’t care if anyone doesn’t believe me because I know it’s true.

When I saw this image, I knew I wanted to make it into a pillow. Sure, I could put it in a frame and hang it somewhere, but I’d rather make it into a pillow so it has some function other than just something to look at. It’s not going to be a square pillow, it’s going to be the shape you see in the picture.

I asked the person who shared it if there was a pattern, but they shared it from another source, and honestly, how many sources has this been shared from? So I decided I’m not even going to bother finding the original source, I’m just going to copy it into my program Plastic Canvas Design Studio. It does stitches like / but it also does \ so I just used both stitches so I could get an X. And here it is. You may take the image and turn it into your own pillow, or if you would rather just make it and frame it, it’s your choice. But please don’t sell the image for profit.

never be bullied into silence cross stitch

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What I did to you is nothing compared to what you did to me

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telling people what I did to youA friend just posted this image on Facebook. If you have PTSD like I do, everything is a trigger for a memory, and this one is no different.

When I was 15 years old, we had to move in with some friends of my parents. They had been friends since the 70’s. I knew them when I was in elementary school. Over the years my mother told me that the woman, whom I named Bubbles in my book was a prostitute. Her husband was her pimp. This is what my mother told me, so when I was 15 years old when we moved in with them, I had preconceived notions about them as human beings. Bubbles tried to have sex with me when we moved in with them and I told her that I didn’t have any money. It was a jerk thing to say, but it was a jerk thing for a woman in her 50’s who knew me when I was a child to try to have sex with me.

So I don’t remember how much time had passed, but my step father had beaten my mother up to the degree that she went to the hospital and spent probably a month in a shelter for battered women and children, and her own children weren’t allowed to visit her. No one had any hard feelings toward my step father but me. When my mother came back, my step father had to leave. He moved in the trailer behind a mechanics garage. I don’t think it was too long before my sister kicked “Bubbles” out of her own house and moved in on her husband. My sister was 18, and this man was in his 50’s. Remember, we knew them when we were children, and she’s sleeping with him and making him kick out his own wife.

My mother, both sisters, Bubbles and I were all in the kitchen and my sister told us (my mother, sister and myself) that we had to leave. She was kicking us out of someone else’s house and my step father was moving back in the house. Really?

Before I get to the next part, I’d just like to remind you that when I was about 8 or 9, our parents would leave us alone in the apartment and my sister who was only 2 years older would babysit me. She began chasing me around the house with knives. KNIVES! They may have only been butter knives, but to a child, it doesn’t matter. To my little eyes, a knife is a knife is a knife. This wasn’t a one time thing, oh no, this was every time we were alone over a period of time. As soon as the front door would close and she knew they weren’t coming back, she would head to the kitchen and grab a knife and start chasing me, threatening to kill me. Again, it doesn’t matter that it was a butter knife, in my mind a knife is a knife and she was threatening to murder me, and she put me through so much hell. Imagine how tortured a child must feel knowing their own flesh and blood wants, well… blood.

When my sister kicked me, my baby sister and my mother who had just left a shelter for battered women out of the house, I looked at the butcher block in the middle of the kitchen and saw a butcher knife and those memories from my childhood of her chasing me with knives flashed into my head, so I grabbed that butcher knife and chased her with it. I was filled with rage, but obviously I hadn’t planned on hurting her, just scare her. She had just put a knife in all of our backs, so it was only fitting that she thought that she had one coming for her as well.

Years later, my sister told a friend of hers that when I was 15, I chased her with a butcher knife, and she told me that her friend thinks I’m a psycho. It’s funny how she told her friend how much of an angel she was and that out of nowhere I grabbed a butcher knife and chased her with it, but she failed to mention exactly what prompted me to pick up that butcher knife. I don’t normally go around chasing people with knives for no reason, especially butcher knives. I’m not a violent person, if anything I’m a pacifist. I’m sure she has been telling everyone she has ever met about that time that I, Mike the Psycho, chased my dear innocent angel of a sister for no apparent reason whatsoever with a butcher knife.

Look, I know it was wrong, but it was a reaction to how she was treating her own flesh and blood and how she was throwing other people’s relationship in the trash for her own selfish needs. I agree that it was wrong, I know that, and I own my mistake, but I guarantee you that she will never own her mistake. She has never apologized to me for anything that she has done to me, except for telling me that I was going to hell for being gay. That’s the only thing that she has ever apologized for, out of all the horrible things she has done to me in our childhood. And I guarantee you that she will never get an apology from me.

So yeah, I saw this image, and it flooded my head with all these memories. It doesn’t take much to trigger a memory. All it takes is an image, a sound, a smell, or even looking at an object and I’m back in the memory feeling the same emotions and I can’t stop thinking about it until I vent, like right now. And even after I vent, I may still be thinking about it and I’ll probably start talking to myself, or yelling at her in my head, and I’ll probably cry myself to sleep tonight because I can’t stop thinking about it.

My sister has all these people believing that I’m the bad guy, that I wasn’t abused as a child, I was the abuser. That’s what her friend said in his “review” of my book on Amazon. She fails to mention to him or anyone else all the rotten despicable things she did to me, and she will never own anything she has ever done to anyone else. I’m the “spoiled rotten brat who writes a book full of lies”, but my sister is a perfect angel who only tells the truth. Yeah right.

I’m getting off my soap box. I hope you don’t mind my venting, but what else is a blog for?

PTSD Flashbacks

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PTSD is a bitch, and frankly I’m so sick of the flashbacks. I normally have at least 20 if not more flashbacks throughout the day from my childhood, but today I started my morning with a flashback from age 19. I went straight from dream, which I can’t even remember, to waking up and immediately my brain decided to remind me of something that happened when I was 19.

I was working at a place in Lancaster, Ca called “The Los Angeles Child Abuse Prevention Society” and we were phone solicitors. We would call people from the phone book and basically beg for $30 or more. I was their top solicitor, although I was living in a motel and was eating rice and baked potatoes for all of my meals.

The main office recalled them back to Los Angeles and they thought I was a huge asset to the company and they wanted me to come with them. They withheld my final paycheck in order to pay for my motel bill for the first week. So since they didn’t give me any money, I had no money to buy food.

The first night we were in Los Angeles, we went to this restaurant that looked like a train car. We were standing in front of the cash registers with the menus, it was a fast food burger joint. I was ordering a burger, fries and a drink. No big deal, right? I mean, what else was I supposed to eat? Dirt? My boss grabbed a huge chunk of my hair and pulled my head back and asked if I was sure I wanted that and I said yes. I was kind of laughing because I thought he was having fun with me, but knowing his history, I should have known better. He was abusive to his girlfriend, and he was a big jerk, but he was always nice to me.

We got our food and he paid for it and we all went to the tables on the deck outside. My boss beat the crap out of my manager/roommate, and I wasn’t sure why. After we finished eating we got back in the car. My manager/roommate and I were in the back seat, and my boss got in the driver’s seat and I was sitting behind him. He reached back and started punching me in the face. I was totally not expecting that to happen. It was a huge shock to me. They drove us to our motel and the passenger door opened and we were told to get the hell out of the car as fast as we could. It was a 2-door, so you had to pull the seat forward so the people in the back could get out, but of course she didn’t pull her seat forward, so we had to squeeze through.

When I applied for that job, it was because of their name. “The Los Angeles Child Abuse Prevention Society.” What gives? I mean, why would they have that name, and then give the boss title to some asshole who beats his girlfriend and beats people up for being hungry?

That wasn’t the best way to start my day, but you know what? I’ve had much worse memories when I first wake up, so I think I’ll be able to manage.

The Steve Wilkos Show “An Unfit Mother?”

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e07i2I5KSig

We used to watch The Steve Wilcos Show every day when it first came on the air way back when, but we don’t watch it as much anymore because we normally watch the Ellen DeGeneres Show at 4pm, unless Ellen is a repeat, then we switch to Steve. Although my partner switches back and forth anyway because he wants to see what they are talking about.

Today is New Years Eve 12/31/2014 and this episode is from 6/27/2011 called “An Unfit Mother?” The wife brings the husband on the show specifically to find out if her husband is cheating on her, oh and it just so happens he’s also beating… I’m sorry, I didn’t say that loud enough… He’s BEATING their children. He openly admits to it too, as if he’s proud of it, that is until he is made to feel that he shouldn’t be proud of it.

Steve asks why he beats them and he says he gives them 3 chances and then all bets are off. He is giving a 2-year-old (let’s spell it out TWO YEAR OLD…) 3 chances to do what he asks, and if he does not comply, he beats him. What is he asking a 2 year old to do? Clean their mess? I’m sorry, but since when was it their job to clean up their mess? You’re not working, you are basically just their babysitter, YOU CLEAN IT UP! What do you think mother’s have to do all day when they raise children? The kid makes a mess and the mother cleans it up until they are old enough to know when it’s time to clean the mess. You see, you have to show them how it’s done, several times in fact. Make it a game, let’s clean up our mess together until they learn to do it on their own. They don’t understand until you teach them. You can’t just say do it and they comply, they aren’t robots, they are human beings with very little knowledge of the world, and it is your job as his parent to teach him.

The wife/mother said she is staying with this jerk wad “For the benefit of the children.”  REALLY? How does beating your children benefit them? It’s more to the benefit of you because you are too afraid of being alone or having to find someone new. It doesn’t benefit anyone, actually, because if he is willing to beat children, who’s to say he’s not going to start beating you too? Is that when enough is enough, when he puts his hands on you?

He admits to the lie detector test that he beats the children, he even admitted that he has cheated on her with a 4th woman that she doesn’t even know about, then he denied it. I really think this guy has issues. I think you would remember admitting to something  like that.

I had to stop watching after Steve kicked these 2 off his stage because my head was about to explode. It actually did explode, into words that you are reading.

I’m always telling people about my childhood mainly because I have to vent sometimes, but also because sometimes people bring things up and want me to talk about it. Other people tell me to “get over it” because those people are part of the problem and don’t want to keep hearing about it. I cannot get over something that was so damaging to my psyche simply because someone doesn’t want to hear about how they abused me. It doesn’t work that way. And the more stories I see on TV with father’s and step fathers or even mothers and step mothers talking about how they abused and/or are still abusing children, it brings it all back to me and then I have to talk about it again. If we don’t talk about these things, then there will never be awareness to the problem. I wrote my book for several reasons, 1 to vent and 2 to raise awareness.

I really wish people who want to have children would just go take a parenting class before the mother gives birth. I think that should be part of a pregnancy for both parents. The day you find out you are pregnant, you go to the doctor and he does tests and whatever it is that they do, then you enroll immediately in a parenting class. You go to lamaze class to learn to breathe while giving birth, so why not go to a parenting class to make sure you are able to actually raise a child in a healthy environment? It just makes sense to me that this should be a requirement for having children. But what do I know? I don’t have children and I will never be able to have children no matter how hard I try to get pregnant.

Do me a favor though, if you are a person who gets frustrated and angry easily over the most trivial things, don’t have children.

Children should not be left in cars to die

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I have been seeing too many stories of children being left in cars to die recently, and what I have just read is even more shocking.

I did not know that this year, there have only been 18 reported deaths from children being left in cars. That number is down from last year which apparently according to this website ggweather.com that last year the number was 44. The average number of children who die in cars each year is 38 and since 1998 there have been 624 reported cases of children who have died because their parents either forgot, purposefully left them in their cars, or the children were playing in cars and got stuck.

An examination of media reports about 606 children who died in cars have the following circumstances. 51% of the children were forgotten, that’s 312 children. 29% were playing unattended, that’s 177 children. 18% were left intentionally, that’s 111 children and 1% which are 6 children are all unknown causes of death.

184 children who died were all under the ages of 1 year. 134 were all 1 year, 118 were all 2 years old, 84 were all 3 years old, 35 were 4 years old, 19 were 5 years old, 9 were 6 years old and the numbers keep dropping as the ages go up, including up to 14 years old, of which there are 3 deaths.

This is unsettling to me because I cannot imagine any reason for this to happen. I think I can understand if a parent is forgetful because they have a lot on their minds. Like the movie Home Alone. They had so many children and someone miscounted, so they thought they had everyone, until the mother realized Kevin wasn’t with them. How could anyone forget Kevin? Luckily that all worked out in the end, but he wasn’t left in a car, he was left in a house where it wasn’t hot outside, but still, that shouldn’t have happened either. Then again, if they remembered him, we wouldn’t have had a funny movie to watch for Christmas.

Now before anyone calls me a jerk, I’m not saying the parents who accidentally forget their children are horrible people. In fact, I’m not passing judgment on anyone. I am simply saying I cannot believe that this is happening. Not only can I not believe it is happening, but I cannot believe it is STILL happening knowing it can happen.

If you leave your child in a car and it is 70 degrees outside, your car can heat up about 10 to 15 degrees. When it is 80 to 85 in the car and the windows are all rolled up with barely any oxygen, they will suffocate. If the temperature can go up 10 to 15 degrees when it’s 70, imagine how hot it will get if it is 100 degrees outside. We went to the movies today and it was about 102 degrees outside. The car said it was 120 degrees, and boy was it hot inside there. We had to open the windows to let all the hot air leave before the A/C would do any good.

I can never have children. Never. Ever. Why? If you read my book you should know why. I was diagnosed with HIV in 1991 and I was upgraded to AIDS in 1994. When I came out of the hospital from nearly dying in 1994, I was told to apply for disability and I have been on permanent disability since. I was supposed to die from 2000 to 2005, but here I am. In 2010 I was told by one of my doctors that I probably only had 10 more years left. That’s what prompted me to start writing my book in 2010. It was a bucket list thing. I’ve always dreamed of writing a book and my memoir was the only thing I could think to write because it didn’t take much thinking to write. Memories are easier to write down than having to make up an imaginary world with imaginary people. It was just easier to write. My childhood dream was fiction, but I didn’t think I had any time for that.

Not only do I not have the income to raise a child, but because of my AIDS status, I get sick at the drop of a hat. If a child is sick and is coughing, I get bronchitis. That is not hyperbole either because my neighbor’s children gave me bronchitis at least 4 times a year when they still lived next door. I also have scoliosis and carpal tunnel syndrome. I’m not in the best health. My liver is dying from all the HIV medications, so it would be completely irresponsible of me to put someone through the emotional turmoil of losing a father if I ever adopted a child. I’m not going to put anyone through that.

I digress…

My parents always left us in the car when we were kids. I remember my parents going to the grocery store and we weren’t allowed to go in with them because back then in the 70’s children were seen and not heard. I mean, it wasn’t like it was in the 1950’s, but when you are being raised by someone who was born in the 1950’s, you were being raised the way their parents raised them. My step father had a rule that we were not to be seen by company unless company requested our presence. We had to stay in our rooms until we were called out. So when they took us anywhere, we had to stay in the car, unless we were going to a restaurant, in which case we obviously came inside to eat.

I remember sitting in the car while my parents were looking for a new car. A man was bleeding and he came up to the car and my sister and I both freaked out. I remember how frightened I was that this was happening and I remember waiting very impatiently for our parents to come back.

See, that’s another thing. I was in these children’s shoes. I was always left in the car, so I understand what it was/is like for them. I know what was/is going through their heads because it was going through mine as well. They aren’t sitting in the car with nothing on their mind, or merrily singing a sea shanty or acting out a scene in Hamlet. They are frightened. They are freaking the fuck out. “When is mommy or daddy coming back?” “Why do they always leave me/us in the car when they take me/us somewhere?” They are constantly looking out the window at the door of the place their mother or father went in. These kids aren’t thinking about anything but “when is mommy coming back?”

It is unfair to the children to make them go through that. If you cannot bring your child into the place you are visiting, then you shouldn’t have brought them with you in the first place. Leave them at home with a babysitter, or a relative or someone you trust. If you can’t find someone to take care of them for the length of time you wish to be gone, then bring them with you, but don’t leave them in the car. Not only is it unfair to torture them like this, but you are stealing their lives from them when they die.

People are so concerned about abortion, but those same people kill their kids by leaving them in the car. How is that okay?

I’m stepping off my soapbox now. I just had to say something. You can call me a horrible person for having an opinion, but I am standing up for the children who have no voice.

Don’t Hit Anyone!

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Have you ever been so angry with someone and the only thing that you could think to do was to hit them? Why? Put yourself in their shoes. Haven’t you ever said something that you regret, didn’t mean to say, or that you phrased it the wrong way? Did you want to be hit for saying it? Probably not. Or perhaps you dropped a plate and it was a really expensive plate, but it was an accident, do you really think you deserved to be hit? No, you didn’t, because it’s an object, it’s a thing. I don’t care if that thing cost $10 or $100, it’s a thing and it is insignificant compared to the damage you will do to a child, spouse, family member, friend or even a complete stranger.

I have gotten angry at times from the way people have spoken to me or treated me time and time again, it’s like they push and push and push until you are broken, but the most I’ve ever done was yelled at them to stop, I never hit them. My partner and I have been together for 20 years and not one time has either of us hit the other. We’ve had screaming matches, and it was usually over something so stupid that I couldn’t even tell you what it was about even if I tried really hard. But we NEVER hit each other. We’ve brought our anger towards each other down to about 5% over the last 20 years. We bicker occasionally, but we don’t yell because life is too short and neither of us deserve it.

There was a picture on Facebook of a man holding a dog by the throat against a wall with his fist in front of the dog’s face. Now I ask, what did that dog ever do to that guy that he deserved to be abused like that? Did he eat his shoe? Knock over the garbage can in the kitchen because he smelled something that he wanted? Did he rip a pillow to shreds while he was at work? Probably none of the above. I bet that dog has been abused from day one, not because he did something wrong, but because by pure bad luck he ended up being adopted by an abusive person. And even if that dog did do something wrong, he’s an animal, it’s what they do! Sometimes they don’t understand our customs because they are still learning. You can swat at their behinds and tell them no in a very strong tone, but don’t beat the shit out of them for something stupid.

My point is that it doesn’t matter what someone said or did or if you just had a horrible day, you don’t take it out on the people and pets you love. It’s just not appropriate. If you ever want that person or animal to love and respect you, show them the same courtesy that you want to be shown to you by showing them how much you love them, not by how angry of a person you are. I would bet you would get sick and tired of being yelled at and hit on a daily basis, so why would you do that to someone else?

When you are angry, take a walk, talk to a therapist, vent to someone on Facebook, but don’t hit anyone. There are so many ways of taking out your frustration that doesn’t involve violence. Hitting causes psychological damage to people and your pets. They never forget how you treated them, and I can guarantee you that they will hold a grudge against you for the rest of their lives. 100 nice things will be erased by 1 punch in the face. Just think about that.

If mental scars were visible, the people you abuse would look horrible. If my mental scars were visible, you probably wouldn’t recognize me at all. I may seem like I have my shit together, but inside I’m a complete mess. I have had depression since childhood and believe me, it’s not fun, so just think about what you are doing before you do it.

Think before you yell, think before you hit.

That bridge burned down to the ground

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Burning-Bridges

My sister, who despite her negative review of my book with her OWN NAME, will remain nameless (that is unless you go see her Amazon review, then she is no longer nameless), has lit the final flame on the bridge that burned it down to the ground.  I am not going to try to put the fire out because there isn’t anything TO put up, the bridge is nothing but ash on the ground below, all I can do is sweep the ashes and move on.  But before I do that, I’d like to share a little story of how it happened.

As you know, I wrote a book called “Diary of a Gay Nerd: Life After Child Abuse, It Gets Better!”  It is my memoir about my life growing up with a violent step-father and a sister who I got along with for most of my childhood until she decided that it would be fun to ruin the rest of my childhood.  But that’s not what the whole book is about, I also talk about my experiences being bullied at school because I was gay, becoming homeless because I was gay, becoming an alcoholic, becoming addicted to drugs and the experiences of my past relationships, and finally at the end being diagnosed with AIDS, diabetes, degenerative disc disease, Stephen Johnson’s Syndrome, sleep apnea and Parkinson’s Disease etc.

My book was not meant to be an attack on anyone, but rather a way for me to work through my issues, to get all of those feelings out there and to tell my side of the story.  As I was writing the book, I was writing with those feelings that I had in the memory, so it may seem like I still had negative feelings, but that’s the only way I was able to write about the memory, to show the feeling that I felt at the time.  Of course I no longer hold any resentment towards anyone and I no longer have those negative feelings because I have worked through my issues.  Yes I do still have flashbacks and nightmares that haunt me and hurt me to the core, but I don’t think those old memories and the feelings that come with them are ever going to go away.  Of course, my family doesn’t see it that way, they see it as a way for me to attack them and make money off of it.  That’s simply not true.

After I read my sisters “Review” or rather her “personal attack” I called my aunt who lives in Simi Valley.  The reason I called her is because she is always asking me if I have spoken with her or had any contact with her, well, I did in a way.  So I called her.  But, she wasn’t as sympathetic as I had thought she would be, instead she went on the attack.  Here is how that went.

She told me that my timeline of events while living with her were way off and that I said something about her that was a bold face lie.  Well, I asked her what the lie was and she said she couldn’t remember, but after she read it she said to her husband that she never said that.  She said it was something about her not defending me, but isn’t exactly sure what that was.  Well, you know, if what she said is true then I will certainly check it out and edit that part out or make a note that her version of events were different or that she doesn’t feel that I was being truthful, but in my defense, I honestly don’t know what she is talking about and I didn’t add any lies in the book about her.  In fact, I was trying to be as kind to her as possible in the book, but there were certain things that I wrote that were hurtful and they were the truth.

In my opinion, I think she might be referring to me hearing a conversation between her and my mother when they were talking about my friendship with my first boyfriend being a phase.  Of course I didn’t know that my whole family knew I was gay until I was 17 years old when my mother confronted me about it, but she told me that they all knew that I was gay.  The reason that came up in our conversation is because my sister said in her “review” that I was bragging to my parents about my “male-male relationship” which I think she is referring to having sex with him, which by the way never happened.  Not only were we not having sex until I was 17 and homeless, but even if I were having sex, I wouldn’t as a 15 year old tell my parents.  I mean give me a break.

My aunt said that my perception of time was off because 1 we were only there for 6 months, but I seem to recall living with her when the original mini series V came to NBC which was in September 1984.  I also remember being there for Halloween 1984 and I remember still living there when summer began in 1985.  That’s when I met my first boyfriend, it was the beginning of summer and I went over to my girlfriends house and we were going to the beach with our other friend and her brother was driving us.  That is the day that I met him.  We probably spent 2 months together and then we left.  She said that he was going to the Riverside school for the deaf while we were living with her and that I started school in September in Simi Valley, but that is not true because we left during the summer of 1985.  But how is September to September 6 months anyway?  My perception of time is not off here, but that is my opinion and it is also my memory.  I never went to high school in Simi Valley, I started high school at Saugus High School on the first day of school.

My sister also mentioned a few other false facts that were just so out there that I can’t remember what they were and I refuse to go back to the review to look because it will just piss me off more.  But she mentioned that when I was 13-14 my mother told me about my real father and I was so enraged that I pushed her and my stepfather down which caused him to have a heart attack.  So false!  She told me about my real father on my 15th birthday.  We went for a walk and she told me all about him and I was so happy to have that little gap in my heart filled.  I wasn’t angry with her for it, I was grateful that she told me.  And as far as pushing her, she had a bad back and I was even defending her back problems when people were calling her a drug addict, why would I push her?  Get real!

And my stepfather had “Heart attacks” so often that you could predict them.  One time it was so bad that he was crying, but when we got to the emergency room, they said he had gas.  That was when I was 19 years old though and we lived in Quartz Hill.  My sister will dispute that, but she wasn’t living there.  I had to move in with my parents because I was living with her and came home from work and she wasn’t expecting me and she was walking around the house naked and I saw her whole naked body.  I won’t describe what I saw, because that would be too invasive, but if you think I am lying, ask me and I will tell you.  She got mad and told me I had to leave.

Anyway, I can understand that she is hurt that I wrote a book and called her a few names like sociopath, but she didn’t read the book, otherwise she would have read the nice things that I said about her.  Like this.

Here is a quote from the book in chapter 9.

“It was lunch break one day and I was walking by myself when out of nowhere I felt someone jump on my back. Some kid, who I didn’t even know, who must have weighed 200lbs had jumped on me. I fell like a ton of bricks had just landed on my head. He was straddling me while punching me in the head and since I was lying on my stomach, all I could do was hold my hands over my head because I didn’t know what else to do. My sister must have noticed the fight and she came to see what was happening. She got him to stop hitting me by beating the crap out of him. She threatened him to leave me alone or she would kick his ass again, but he didn’t care.

“I started trusting her again despite the trouble that she had caused me in Bakersfield. Even though she was still a bitch to me at home and she still purposely got me into trouble, I still remembered that one good thing she did for me at school.”

In chapter 15…

“Sarah and I were finally getting along since she apologized to me about the way she had been treating me and I forgave her. I was still upset with her, but I was able to set my feelings aside because I finally got my sister back.

“I wanted to hang out with her at the smoking section because I didn’t know anyone. I really didn’t want to know anyone either, I mean what was the point? We were just going to move again anyway and I would lose all of my new friends so why bother?

“Sarah was my bodyguard and nobody would bother me as long as I was with her. Trust me, nobody messed with her, and if you messed with me, you messed with her. “She made friends fast and her new friends were tired of me hanging around them because she was in the twelfth grade and I was in the tenth grade. She wanted me to leave, but I didn’t want to so her friends told me that if I wanted to hang out with them, I would have to start smoking.”

See?  I just wanted to hang out with my sister at school.  All I ever wanted was her love and her friendship.  And I even tried making amends with my stepfather by saying this in Chapter 36:

“George came to the apartment with a U-Haul and took all of my things to my sister’s house and put them in her garage. As much as I hated George for the way he treated me as a child, he always seemed like he cared enough about me to help me move. I was certainly more appreciative of him for all of the help that he had given to me over the years as an adult.”

Look, my book was written purely to help me work through MY issues, it was never intended to hurt anyone or to call anyone any names, it was therapy for me to write it.  Sure I didn’t have to publish it, but after hearing from so many people that I validated them and sort of helped them with their own issues, it was worth every word I wrote.  The book isn’t going to go away, and even if I did take it off of sale today, that bridge is gone and there is no repairing it.  It’s out there, once it’s out there, it’s done.  Finished.  There is no going back, so I might as well keep the book for sale because there is nothing I can do to repair this relationship that has been broken for decades.

My aunt and my mother didn’t speak for years and my aunt regrets that she never got to speak with her sister again before she died, and she told me on the phone last night to write her a letter to patch things up with her before “God forbids” someone dies and you can never speak to them again to tell them you are sorry.  The only thing I am sorry about is that it was taken the way it was, but I am not sorry for writing it.  Even if some people had a different perception of time or if my perception of time was off, or if someone doesn’t remember a conversation that was had, I have no regrets and I will not apologize for writing my truth.

Anyway, I know this is a long post, but I just wanted to get it out there.  In a way, this post is also a part of my healing process.  It may not be part of anyone else’s healing process though, but probably will make things worse, but I mean how much worse can it get eh?  My sister unfriended me and took me out of her life when she found out about my book, she already hates me so tell me how much worse can this post get?

I love her despite the lies that she told on Amazon, she is my sister and I will always love her.  I never stopped loving her despite her hatred for me even though she said she loved me.  I know she has a seething hatred for me, but that’s fine, I get it, I really do.  But I’m done with it all.  I’m just done.  If anyone else has an issue with me, well that’s not my issue, that’s their issue.  I’m just done.

If you are curious about the book, it is for sale and all of the information of where to buy it for your Nook, Kindle and paperback is all on the website www.diaryofagaynerd.com.  The ebook is $3.99 and the paperback is $10.  Judge for yourself.