Tuesday, July 10, 2012

Fogs Freedom (R-Edited) 25 march 2012

In the darkest times of your life, when danger's death surrounds you, keep your head and do not fear the fog as it envelopes you like a protective blanket. For the fog will confuse that which lurks for you, enabling you to find the light of freedom and safety.
As a child I was often locked in a closet. This was usually after getting beaten, sometimes knocked out. This went on for about 5 years. Then I was thrown into the small closet near the front door of our Clearwater home. I can still remember in the beginning where I would go into an absolute hysterical  panic in the darkness with those unknown things touching me everywhere. I would pass out on the floor with my face close to the door trying to breathe air. Over time, I came to realize that it was a place where no one was hurting me. I came to realize this was a safe place. Once my adoptive mother realized that there wasn't any psychological effect in locking me in the closet anymore, she stopped the practice and began other, more subtle psychological attacks. 

Any where you are or any place you are there may be fog. That fog may be easily seen with your eyes or may be from the absence of reasonable and logical thinking processes. Just stop for a moment and get your brain back in order. Start thinking reasonably, logically and objectively. Yes, those three words are similar but they are also very different. Either way, become sensibly aware of the inherent truth around you. Am I damaged? Am I still being hurt? Free yourself with proactive objective logic and get help. Immediately. As in right now. ASAP.  
I remember my tree. Yep, it's my camphor tree. I discovered it late one night. It had all of these tentacles and I knew it was a place of great danger. Well, I was the Bat-man on my black Webco bike. So, I proceeded into the darkness and fog of mind to investigate the thing. I knew I was fast and quick. After all, the mom hadn't killed me yet, really. So I protected the bike by setting it down a safe distance away and began a perimeter search to gain a safe entry through the long hairs (tall grass) of this monstrous beast, apparently sleeping. It will never know what hit him. Noiselessly I move through the tall grass and break through the hidden inside perimeter. There it is, a huge hulking creature which in that moment I knew could easily defeat the evil Godzilla-the destroyer of Japan. 
I am so close I could touch it. I stop to listen and heard absolutely nothing. Then I swiftly attack the heart of this great tentacled beast. The maw at the heart of the beast was closed. I sat quietly and fell into a rarely experienced deep sleep. The morning was old and my bike easily seen in the already warm sun. 
I visited my camphor tree often. Slept in it when it was too dangerous for me to be home. I took my last girlfriend there for our first kiss. Nothing ever happened to me at that tree. It is almost like GOD put that tree there as my personal safe place. I recently visited my tree. Many of the branches have been cut away. The cradle in the center of the tree is still there. If you ever visit please pray for my tree and thank it for keeping at least one child safe. 
:Added on 12 July 2013:
We were going to the Pinellas County fair in the early 1970's. WooHoo. Excitedly my mom said I didn't need anything to eat or drink. I was hungry and thirsty. I remember that part. I should have been suspicious. But, Dad was going too. I should have been suspicious because he never wanted to do anything with me, or was that be seen with me? Either way is true. I just wanted to be with them. To be together. Mom declared all of her threats, which were going to be real regardless. Going to the fair and riding the rides was worth it.
We got there in downtown Largo, FL. All of the rides could be easily seen. There were happy people everywhere. I remember it was a hot day. They walked and walked fast. I was telling them I wanted a Coke many times. For some odd reason I just could not keep up. Then they were in the crowd ignoring my cries. Then they were gone and I was lost.  It was the whole world who could not keep up with me. Then I could see myself grab a hold of a hand. Instant darkness.
I started to wake up inside of a tent. The nurses were there and needles were in my arm. It was foggy and blurry. My mom and dad came into the tent and the nurses were really angry. We went home and I laid down in the back seat. End of memory.
:Added on 12 July 2013:
I came home from school. Snuck into the house and found my mother passed out in her chair. Her Scotch and water was nearly empty. The ice was still intact, which meant I could watch a little T.V. Channel 44 WTOG in their bedroom. I knew I would be trapped if she woke up angry. I didn't hear her get up. The show must have been really good. Maybe it was Batman. Then there she was in the door. She lunged at me with that absolute look of evil on her face. It was time to run or just fall out of the chair. Headed toward the wrong end of the bedroom, I ran into her walk-in closet. This was not smart as I closed her folding doors behind me and dove into a back corner of the closet. She came in - in a rage. She search and yelled. Moved and kicked boxes. Then began to calm down as she could not find me. I remained perfectly still. She walked out in search of me. I could hear her get very worried. But it was a different kind of worry which did not involve me. I could hear her call for me everywhere in the house, saying all of the doors are chain locked. She made anther drink and went to her pill cabinet. I waited until it was quiet and made my escape to the outdoors. 
:Added On 12 July 2013:
On another day I was yet again in her room watching T.V. I had become so brazen that I knew I could escape her clutches and beatings. She caught me again. This time I ran toward the closet and she was close. I ran across her bed and dove like a quick cat behind the wicker framed couch in the livingroom. It was the kind of couch with four pillows tied to the frame for the back and four to sit on. There is nothing else. Just a frame and pillows a yucky brown and gold with flowery flowers of some kind. I made the quick right hand turn and dove behind the couch and into the frame. She saw me and picked up the entire couch and easily moved it to the side. All the while screaming her very real threats. She didn't see me and thrust the end of the couch forward and dropped it. Proclaiming she had me. She moved to the other wall to get me and I was not there. She got worried when she could not find me. She looked all around for me and still could not find me. I could hear her in the kitchen, making her drink and getting her pills. Then she went into her bedroom and closed the door. I waited a minute and quietly came out of the couch and outside into the daylight.
Added on 12 July 2013:
Those two escape are just a few that I remember. The majority of the time I was beaten and knocked out. in the beginning I would just come to her for the beatings, then just figured out it doesn't matter.
I remember I had set up my quick exits and opened the doors and windows. It was a beautiful day. Mom was angry for some reason and as usual dad was not around, because when dad was around she would beat on him. I was in the guest room. This was an off-limits room. We had a custom-made bar which was built by my dad and the stereo was there too. I just wanted to listen to the radio (WLCY). Well, I got myself trapped and made it to the hallway. I was at a run when I approached the sliding glass door I had opened earlier. It wasn't open. Well, I woke up in the small closet.
Added on 17 July 2013: (Not edited yet by R.)
The Birthday parties. Christmas. Easter and even a Family wedding. They were all very traumatic events for me. Why would I say that. It is because before the each event I was always threatened. Which every time was followed up with beatings and more very bad words. I always did something wrong. I could never do anything right. Ever.
I remember my last birthday party. We were all sitting around a table bout to eat tomato soup. My mom had given everyone their soup and I was last. She was telling everyone how hot it was as she accidentally spilled the hot soup onto my arm. My skin began to roll up into what looked like a bracelet. I vaguely remember some whispered choice words for my mom from the other adults.  I had a cast on my arm for a long time. Was it my fault? Was it her fault? To much time has passed for me to remember correctly. Although, the faded scar still remains on my arm to this day.
When you teach a child about Santa Claus. What is the worst thing you can tell a kid? Think for a minute about the Christmas build-up. For me it was always the threat build-up. Then the beatings prior to Christmas seemed to also ramp up a bit. After Christmas, Everything changed. It was almost like the day was unimportant. Mom and dad seemed uninterested in the openings of gifts. The only gift I got for my Birthday was my black Webco Bike. With it. I had my freedom of escape. I could always get onto my bike which I left under my bedroom window and just be gone into the darkness. Which when it was to dangerous for me to be at home. I was gone, until that fateful day when the Clearwater Police finally caught me. They were never really after me as much as they wanted to make sure I was alive and unharmed. For a kid who did not understand that. The cops were after me.
There I was watching to horrible horror movies at the old drive in theater. I had two speakers on my handle bars. Listening in stereo. Yea, It was cool. The last movie got really gross. Something about eating people with your underarm pits. So, I put up the speakers and Went zooming out of the exit as fast as possible. Across the street was sitting Clearwater police. They never paid me no mind before, But this time. His lights went on. The chase was on. I knew he had no chance in catching me. Because, If I could make it to the woods. I was gone and I made it to the woods. Got into my neighborhood. Very quiet. Made the quick stop to observe the pointed cross of Clearwater Christian Church and then glided down hill to my street. It is very late at night. As I made the silent Left hand turn onto my street. There they were. Several Police cars in my front yard. The K9 dog in one squad car barked and scared me. I began to approach the house and an officer asked if I was me. I said yes. Then he told me to put my bike away and come with him. I sat in his front seat. He showed me his light buttons and tried to impart some wisdom. That today, I wish I could remember. All I knew and was thinking. I was going to jail and all of those bad awful things my mom had told me was absolutely true. It had to be. They didn't go to jail. Only me. That was my first night in Florida Foster Care. Spending part of the night in Pinellas County Juvenile Detention Center in isolation. The isolation room was for my protection. But, no one told me. All see through glass and it was cold.
The very first shelter home was the next morning after court. No one spoke to me that I remember. I guess everyone just agreed that I was to dumb to understand and I didn't. I spent about 3 months in a shelter home. Told to always be quiet. No school. Just silent and alone with another 10 or so kids who were also being silent and alone.
They had a trampoline and we took turns in pairs. So as long as we were quiet as in silent. I received a gift from my dad. An Am/Fm radio in which I could listen to WLCY radio. The radio was stolen after about a week and the shelter parents didn't seem to care about it. 
:Added on 12 July 2013:
This section is supposed to be positive and inspiring.
This will grow as I remember other stories of my childhood. They are not very pleasant. No matter what the fog is in your life, the trials and tribulations, there is an end to it all. There always is. For former foster kids, they seem to just exist or live as though all of the abuse and tortures endured are still happening or are about to. Once you are free of your abusers, you are free. Do not go back to those places where you endured all of that, not even within your own mind. Just know that all of the abuse and torture you have endured and survived was never about what you did or did not do. It was never even about you. It was about them, your parents or other family members. It was about those foster parents who did terrible things to you and then blamed it all on you. Yep, even the counselors blamed you. You were always the guilty one. All of that is done and gone. Now, just look up into the sky and know the whole of it is now yours. You are free. You are free. You are free.
Now is the time to plan your future. A good future. Not a future as statistically predicted by the FBI. A future that you plan by your own free choices. I know you probably do not have as much of an education as you should have gotten. But that is alright. Start to get your education right now. Then go to college and get your degrees. Yes, plural. Do not allow your own mind to tell you that you are too far behind and it is impossible or too hard, which is absolutely wrong. You're not going to risk dying just by going to college. Going to school for you will just be mildly difficult to tedious. The hard part is behind you. The impossible is behind you and you conquered it already. You are the victor. As the victor you get to march off in victory. Typically former foster kids become homeless, imprisoned or become a member in the unaccepted cultures of society. You do not have to be any of those things that are a part of those negative cultures. Yes, they will accept you, but you will continue to witness a great variety of negativeness and harmful living, which usually results in poor quality of life and a short life span.
Now is your time to create and make your own future of which you can be proud, a future which will further define to your tormentors just how much they failed in life. You can achieve all according to your own will and intentions. Go forth. Work hard and work smart without cessation. Then maybe you can have that home of your own with a family of your own. When you do, I bet your very own children won't become abused or tortured as you have been.
Edited by: R.: 02 July 2013: 12 July 2013:
More stories to be added as I remember them.


Will Not be included in future volumes of “Musings of an American Truck Driver”: