Family is not about blood

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They say blood is thicker than water. Well, if that is true, why are so many parents kicking their LGBT children out of the house? Why are so many siblings burning their bridges over something trivial? Blood may be thicker than water, but you don’t have to be blood related to be family.

I was homeless when I was 15 and again when I was 17, and neither time was by choice. No one chooses to be homeless. There are children on the streets because their family gave up on them when they came out of the closet. Children are selling their bodies for sex so they can eat and have a roof over their heads. They are getting hooked on drugs, being raped and in most cases getting murdered because they are LGBT. Why is that, because they were gay? No, because their BLOOD tossed them into the streets to fend for themselves. Some are killing themselves because of the rejection.

Trust me when I say that blood is not thicker than water. Not just anyone can be your family, but that all depends on who YOU consider to be family. I have friends who I consider family more than my sisters and one cousin. I have a friend from when we lived in Van Nuys who I haven’t seen since 1981, but we are Facebook friends and I consider him more of a brother than I ever considered either of my sisters and my cousin. I have friends here in the Bakersfield gay community who I consider family. There is a family who just recently moved to Arizona who I barely got to know, and I consider them family more than my sisters and my cousin.

So just know that if you treat your own blood like crap, you may think that you are not replaceable, but trust me honey, you are. You need them more than they need you, so don’t treat your gay children, siblings or cousins like crap. If you never hear from them again, maybe think next time before you tell them they are going to hell, or in my cousins case, think before you tell them that you are voting for Prop 8 because he doesn’t think your relationship is worth a piece of paper.

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?

Pedophilia is not something to joke about

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Image from CBSNews.com - http://www.cbsnews.com/8301-504083_162-20043871-504083.html

I know that pedophilia is not a new issue, it has been happening probably since the dawn of time, but it has always been something that has been hidden in the shadows because people know it’s wrong.  Nobody proudly says they molest children out of fear of getting arrested.  To me it is not something that I want to A) hear about and B) see people joking about.  It’s not funny.

As I was going about my day of the usual scrolling on the Facebook home page to look at who is posting what, I came across one post from a page called “United Against RIP Trolls and Cyberbullies” asking people to report a page called “Damon the pedophile canadian.”  Without hesitation I clicked the page and read the page description and looked through some of the posts.  The description says it’s comedy and that the page owner is not a real pedophile, but I honestly don’t see anything funny about that.  I was not amused.

Naturally I wanted to report the page.  I clicked the option “I just don’t like it” and it gave me the opportunity to message the admin to ask them to remove the page.  Of course I misunderstood that and checked it and typed out a little message.  I didn’t read where it said I was messaging them, I just (again without hesitation) clicked the check box and hit continue.  Within a minute, literally a minute lol, I got a message back from the page.  Here is the email.

I wasn’t expecting to get a response because I thought I was typing that to the Facebook admin, but in a way I am glad that the email got sent to him (assuming the page owner is a male)  and that he knew that someone out there was unhappy about his page.

I didn’t go into any detail about what happened to me in that regard, but I shouldn’t have to.  All he needs to know is that his page is upsetting to people like me.  Although, I was never actually molested, it was an attempt that I managed to escape.  I wrote about it in my book in Chapter 18 “Why is everyone doing drugs?”

This is what happened to me.  It was my mothers so-called “best friend” who was a prostitute in the 1960’s and 70’s.  We had moved into her and her husbands house in 1986 near the end of the school year temporarily because we had nowhere else to go.  I went to the kitchen to get a glass of tea and she grabbed me by the crotch and she held onto my balls with a tight grip for at least 5 minutes straight before taking me to the couch and face raping me.  She was trying to take off my clothes and that was when I started thinking “have a seizure, have a seizure, for god sake, HAVE A SEIZURE!”  I managed to fake one and she put me to bed and then she went to her bed, and I could hear her crying.  I was crying too, but she didn’t hear me.

I had grand mal and petit mal seizures as a baby and during most of my childhood and I was having them more during the school year of 1985/86.  I was in special ed and had seen other people having seizures, so I knew what to do.  I was 15 years old at the time, but I was still a child.

Facebook really needs to clean house.  They are allowing people to make pages without needing approval based on the page name and description.  Anyone could make a page about anything for any reason and nobody checks to make sure they are being good.  It’s all up to us, the community, to keep these pages in line by reporting them to Facebook.

As a page owner, I have to adhere to a strict criteria.  I abide by all of the rules and regulations (that I know about), but I also try to abide by common sense, and that means to be a good little boy.  Although, as an atheist, I have posted images that are anti-religion, but only because they are exposing how anti-gay certain religious people are.  But even if I were a Christian, I would still post those to let people see how anti-gay people are in the religion.  It’s basically standing up for myself and my community.  What that guy is doing is he is making fun of people who are or were molested as children and it’s not right and we, as in people with common sense, shouldn’t have to put up with those kinds of pages clogging up the Facebook hard drives when there could be more positive role models clogging up their hard drives.

Look, this world is dark enough as it is with all the bullying, senseless suicides of our gay children who were bullied, school and movie theater shootings and with people murdering their families or children (tot mom – allegedly).  We need to stop being so negative as a society and start being positive role models.  There needs to be more accountability and positivity coming out of the internet inspiring people to be good, instead of inspiring them to commit crimes.

Sorry for rambling.  This was my 2 cents lol.  Stepping off my soapbox now.

Please follow United Against RIP Trolls and Cyberbullies on Facebook so you can start seeing their posts to report people.  There are many more pages that tell people to report pages and when I see them, I usually share the post on my facebook page and ask people to report them as well.

Image Credit: CBSNews.com