*I might have put these thoughts up for myself, more than I actually want anyone to read them. But if someone get something out of reading, then it was a little more worth my time. I do apologize up front to anyone that might rerad it, for the shitty grammar, poor spelling, and incoherent rambling. It's apparently 7 am now, And I started fumbling around with it, around midnight. *
The first childhood memories I have, are with me crying. Well, except for the earliest one, where I challenged "god", since I had been told a bit too many times, that I would get struck by lightning, if I as much as stepped on a bug. Obviously, a 6 year old child, doesn't know what such a thing really mean, and wants to test it out.
- Well anyway. My childhood wasn't a particular happy one. I was neglected most of the time, my mom was busy with work, all her different boyfriends, and my brother, while I was seeing my dad, once every 14 days.
Being neglected, I had no self-esteem, what so ever. And was an easy target for bullies. Since I lagged the confidence to fight back. (I was a skinny kid as well)
- The only memories I have of first grade, was the very first day I got there. Where I was hiding inside my moms jacket, during the entire introduction to my class. I was simply too shy, and didn't want to be seen. - And of course, I remember the days, where I was thrown into the hallway as punishment, for being to shy and having too little confidence, to read from a book.
I switched schools 2 times that year, but that's about the only thing I remember about it, since my brain have put up some pretty heavy blockades on my memory, as self-preservation. Though more and more seems to pop forth these days, the more I analyze myself. - I stayed at the 3rd. school, up until 8th grade. And it was one of the worst experiences of my life. And thinking about it, I've had plenty to share from. But school, almost beats them all.
- At first it wasn't all that bad. I played with the other kids, both during and after school. But being a bit withdrawn, do to trouble at home, where my mom had found herself a violent boyfriend. That stopped.
Trading cards with soccer players, was a big hit back then, and I was playing a lot of soccer, and handball at the time, so naturally that catched my interest as well. And here is the first time, I realized that people took advantage of me.
^ I didn't seek out knowledge about the cards at all, I just bought them, so I had something to show to, and trade with my class mates. And I ended up with a really rare card, which the other kids noticed right away. Naturally they wanted to trade with me, and I really didn't want to do it at first, for it was my favorite player, from my favorite team. But they pushed on, coming up with all sorts of sales pitches, on why it would be a good deal for me. And in the end, I cracked under the pressure, and traded my card away. I realized right away, but too late, that it was a mistake. And I'll probably never forget the grin on their faces, while they tried to whisper to each other, how great it was to get their hands on that card, and how gullible I was. - I didn't learn though, I wanted to be appreciated, and most of all, I wanted people to like me. So I pushed it away, thinking, maybe they like me more now, since I traded that card?
So, over and over, similar things happened. I did everything I could, as to please people. And I steered clear of any conflict I could.
Skipping ahead, and I'm now 17 years old, and haven't had a meaningful relationship to another human being, for a decade. Only some limited superficial stuff.
- I still just wanted to be accepted though, and still hadn't learned anything from all the times I had been screwed over. So I continued to try to please people as much as possible. Always having the same opinion as everyone else, just going with the flow. And I ended up doing amphetamine daily. Not because I liked the drug, but mostly because I then had something in common with the crowd I was trying to hangout with.
As you can guess, it ended poorly. A confused night, druggies misunderstood each other, and suddenly I had been trying to scam a dealer. And I was somewhat of a hated guy. It was the first time in my life, I was really scared. And I just couldn't come up with a solution. - But one day, the dealer came by a party I was at, and wanted to talk. At first I was shaking insanely, my heart was racing, and all I could really think about, was that I might actually die that night. (He was a crazy guy.) But apparently, he wanted to end the conflict instead. And me, not knowing how to interact with people properly, or what effect words have, said something really dumb. Which then sparked a conflict with the 3rd party that had been involved. Completely turning my life upside down.
- I stopped coming in those circles, not knowing what to do with myself. feeling shame, anger, sorrow, and almost everything else that comes with a depression. I dreamt about amphetamine every night, about having a lot of it, would definitely get me friends. And it ended up getting so bad, that I voluntarily entered a help center, to do something about my mental addiction.
I spend the next 2 years in rehab, mostly because of my underdeveloped psyche, where emotionally I was still an 8 year old kid. And for the first time in my life, I got myself a meaningful relationship with another human being.
- I was appointed a counsellor, and he was a great support, doing a lot of work to build me up from scratch. So I could handle life a little better. - Unfortunately, I was a mess back then, so I didn't appreciate what he was doing, and after a conflict 2 years in, I ended up running away, confident I could do better on my own.
I obviously failed at that. At the age of 19, I was still a child mentally, and no where near ready for real life. I got an appartment in a city, living off of social security, I tried a job at a pub, which was easy enough, since I just had to serve beer, and clean the drunkedness away, when closing time came along. - Not to mention, my boss loved booze, so it was a given that you'd be wasted at work.
- I had that job, for about one and a half year, before it was shut down by the Danish IRS (called SKAT), which was the first and last "real job", I've really ever had. (I write "real job", simply because I don't count jobs that I've quit after a week, as "real".)
After that, I ended up in the system again, and moved around from institution to institution, before I was forced into an early retirement at the age of 23, and signed off to my own apartment, in a small village.
- At that time, I'd found a close friend, that had a bit of the same personality, and the same interests as me. And we spend a lot of time together, smoking weed and playing video games. Which made me forget about my life most of the time.
Having lived there for a while, I started to get to know a bit more people around there. And some of the people I visited often, where we smoked pot and had fun, invited me to stay with them.
- I was ecstatic. Never before in my life, had anyone shown me that kind of affection.
It changed quickly though. - With my brain, and mental health still under development, I became a nuisance to them. I was yelled at every single day. And no matter how much I tried to please them, the mental abuse only got worse. - I developed a disease with the name of Herpes Zoster, though in layman, it would be Hellfire, I guess. Which is a mutated chickenpox virus. And it is painful as fuck. The name hellfire, is literal. But mostly describes the burning sensation in the skin, after the initial disease, which more feels like knives being plunged into muscles and nerves, ripping them apart continuesly.
Well, as it starts out with the skin being slightly red-ish, and no sign of anything else. Those people didn't believe my screams for pain, and instead called it "a want for attention", making me think I was nothing but a hypochondriac. And it wasn't until the 3rd day of huge blisters, that I went to the doctor. - And behold, there is no treatment for it, other than regular herpes medicin, which if not taken within the first 24 to 48 hours, won't have anything but a bare minimum effect. with a 50/50 chance of permanent damage to the nerves. - So obviously, I ended up with constant muscle and nerve pain. Since my body won't relax at all, in the entire left side. No appetite, and in turn, no energy at all.
For the first 4 years of that, I had no idea what was wrong. The way my left side of the body feels, is completely different from my right side. while I can barely feel sensations on my skin, the inside of my body, have never given as much response. I can feel everything going on, which used to give me a lot of anxiety, because I lacked the knowledge as to what and why.,
- Still living with them, as I got weaker and weaker, the abuse got worse. I messed up more often, since my brain got more and more foggy. And I couldn't think about anything but the pain I was constantly feeling. I had anxiety attacks every time I heard their voices, heard movement on the stairs, or a car in the driveway. Actually, almost every sound, made my heartbeat intensify, I couldn't breathe and I started to get dizzy, with my vision going dark. It happened so many times a day, that my health was in serious danger, and that same friend I mentioned above, sort of kidnapped me from there, and had me move in a caravan in his parents yard.
Things started to turn around a little after that. And we ended up finding an apartment together for around half a year, until he got tired of me and my problems, and ended the lease.
- Having a dog, it was impossible to find a place to live, with a months notice, so I ended up back where I began. I rented a room at my moms place, since it was the only option available.
A year had passed by then, and I was still struggling alone, with battling the anxiety attacks I had, though on a much smaller scale, and for much shorter periods. I still grew weaker and weaker, only getting exercise when I walked the dog a couple of times a day, for as long as my body could take it. I couldn't eat, because one of the things I was being yelled at for doing, was eating after we had smoked. So I completely lost my appetite. And naturally I drew one wrong conclusion after another, googling different symptoms, thinking I had so many things wrong with me. - It wasn't that I actually turned into a hypochondriac though, but more that I hated not knowing what was going on with my body, and all the doctors I visited, was telling me, that I was a healthy young man, after a couple of minutes of talk, without any examination what so ever.
Then, a couple of years ago, I randomly stumbled upon this Danish activist. - A former cop, whom had quit his job, because he suddenly realized that aggression against peaceful people was wrong, no matter what the diktates of politicians said. And it was a real eye opener for me. Spending time following him a bit, I suddenly realized that I wasn't as alone, as I thought I was. I wasn't per say an anarchist/voluntaryist, at that point. But I didn't see a reason for governments either, and I had a problems with authority.
- Anyway, I started reading books, for the first time in my life. Since I hated gaining knowledge, because it reminded me of school. I wanted to learn more, about this concept of freedom, and why the people seeking it, tend to be more filled with love, than the rest of society.
It ended up breaking me completely though.
- Suddenly I understood why, I had been forced to go through the hell I had. My parents didn't know what it meant to be parents, and they pretty much left the responsibility for that, to the government.
I started reading about peaceful parenting, homeschooling and etc.. And the more I read, the angrier I became. Instead of using logic, understanding, reasoning, and so forth, in raising children, my parents had done the exact opposite with me. As an example, I was spanked a lot. Mostly when ever my brother hit me, and instantly started crying, saying that I had hit him. - I was told what to do, and what to think, and when I asked why, the answer was "because I sad so", or with a condescending reply calling me "Spørge Jørgen" (I don't really know what the English phrase for that would be, other than "Inquisitive Tom", but it was more the condescending way of putting it, that was the problem.)
So I never learned how to think for myself, and I simply stopped asking questions.
A couple of years past, where I despite the pain and depression, gained a lot of knowledge, on a shitload of different subjects like psychology, economy, body language, praxeology(though you could say that, economy and psychology, both fit into the subject of praxeology), and other subjects. And I started to figure out, how to develop myself.
- The anxiety was completely gone at this point, I started to have confidence in myself. I actually started enjoying my own company, realizing that I'm actually a rather intelligent human being, where as I've always been told and believed, I was the contrary.
- And then the feeling of being indifferent came along. I started paying attention to consistency in people, and that broke my trust in humans completely. When most people realize that taxation is theft, and government is violence. They tend to get content with that knowledge, not wanting to improve themselves anymore after that. Cuz why would they? They've seen the holy grail, and an end to all of the worlds problems, right?
And because of that, they can never be wrong. - I've come to enjoy improving myself. I want to be a better me, than existed yesterday. I want to learn, and I want to challenge myself, even though it's some of the toughest shit I have ever done. And it completely made me crash, when I realized that the people I thought had some value to bring to my life, ended up being just the same as what I had always known, once I challenged their worldview a little.
So I ended up pulling back into my head again, the depression was back, and I dumped pretty much everyone I was having relations with at the time. The world seemed completely empty, without meaning at all. And I started to get an understanding of why people commit suicides.
^ Not that I wanted to do it myself, since neither life nor death, have any value to me. But I did get a front row seat, to that experience. (Figure I might as well mention, that I had written the first 100 suicide letters, before I turned 14. And never doing anything about it, since I believed that it was what the people around me wanted, and I sure as hell wouldn't want to give them that pleasure. - Incidentally, my mom found one of them once, and she cried and cried. Though, nothing changed. The day after, she still stayed home from work, to force me to school. - So it's not like I didn't know what it felt like, to end it all. I just had a better understanding when I got older, with the knowledge I had collected.)
I still stick mainly to myself these days, having a hard time trusting people. But I'm comfortable with it, I enjoy my own company, and have found a few people, I've gambled a bit on.
- I've come to see happiness as a choice, and not something I can gain from outside influence. And while it's not always working for me, I do spend most days smiling, as I find new things on the internet, Play with my dog, or watch one of the animes I follow. The world still look grey, and irrelevant to me. But that doesn't really matter any more, since I take pleasure in the things I have control over, instead of getting down over the things I can't reach.
Anyway. I just wanted to make a short rant about why you should show your kids a lot of empathy, and ended up getting sidetracked completely. If you actually read this entire thing, then I hope you got something of value out of it, and not just wasted your time.
And in no way am I looking for sympathy. I spend a lot of time, doing that when I was younger, and it was a lot of time wasted. But I do hope, that some parent will take it to heart, and not do what ever they can, as to not make their childs life turn out like mine did. I really don't wish that one anyone but politicians, and their thugs.
- Cheers.