This is me

Good day, 

As the header says – This is me. 

To start off with, as this is my first blog post, I’m going to post some stuff about myself. Some background on who I am. Seems only fair that the readers know who the blogger is. Also, my therapist thinks it’s a good idea to “open up” and tell people about myself, even the bits I’m most hesitant talking about. I hate that dude. He makes it sounds so easy when it most definitely is not. 

Anyway…

As far back as I can remember, there was never a father figure for me and my two siblings (I’m the middle child…Gah!). All the other kids had dads in their lives, where I didn’t. During school events and/or concerts, only my mom would pitch up to show her support, and that (as sad as it sounds) made me think that he didn’t care enough to show up, didn’t care at all that at times when I needed his support he wasn’t there to make me feel less insignificant compared to the kids who had theirs there for them. His presence would have made the world of difference. Or so I thought. I only found out much later that my mom and dad had divorced when I was barely a year old. Understandably, my 9 year old life fell apart, having to find out that the one person whose support I needed back then was an abusive husband and would force himself on my mother throughout their marriage. A few months after the divorce he disowned his children (my older brother and I) so he wouldn’t have to pay child support, be involved in our lives or be reminded that he had children with my mom. It disgusted me at one stage that I had his blood running through my veins and that I may turn out the same way. I battled to keep myself in check then, to not act on anything that would normally anger or upset me, because that would be confirming the adage “the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” It’s why I don’t hold grudges for very long; why I’m “mostly” a cheerful person… because I try really hard not to be like the asshole my biological father is (okay, that’s a grudge that’ll never die). 

Sounds really messed up so far, doesn’t it? Not done yet… 

In my primary school years, the constant "you could have done better" in everything I did really screwed up my self-esteem. Confidence was a luxury I didn’t have, as it was gradually being picked off little by little, even though I put my best forward. So I stopped trying to do better, because no matter how high my grades were, my mom wouldn’t acknowledge my efforts in trying to make her proud. I mean, a pat on the back would have been nice every once in a while. This 'stopped trying' is not exactly because I gave up, it's because I realised that no matter how much I improved in my school work, she wouldn't be happy or satisfied with it. My mom had skyscraper expectations, and took it out on me. Not my two brothers... me. For a child between the ages of 8 and 13, that is just a ridiculous amount of pressure. 

I am also reclusive, or introverted, the shy boy, because of my family. The major cause for this lies with my brothers. While I’m talking, they would interrupt me. It didn’t matter what I had to say, nor did it matter that I was answering a question of theirs. Mid-sentence, they would just cut me short and continue chattering among themselves as if I wasn’t part of the discussion. On top of this, my older brother would solve disputes physically, rather than talk things through. I’ll just say I had more bruises back then, than verbal discussion with him. The other cause, though only in small part, would be my mom. She would completely ignore me. I would stand beside her, having told her something and wait for her to say something back, then only after a while she would turn to look at me, albeit with a confused expression, as if she only then saw me standing there. Sure, she'd talk to me on the off occasion, when she needed something, or lectured me to do better at my school work or whatever else. It made me feel like I didn't matter to any of them. That they also didn’t give a damn about me, like that other person did. So I started to withdraw. I was (and still am) a quiet person. It's seldom that I even say a word... Posting messages on forums and message boards, text messaging and talking via an IM application is basically the only way I communicate, or prefer to anyway. 

Then there’s the boys’ technical high school I went to. It was a horrible place, where you had to go day-to-day trying to survive the bullying of the older students. It was relatively safe, but one couldn't just walk around alone without some idiot bullying you. When I got there, my first day of grade 8, the school still had "ontgroening", where the grade 12 students would pick a grade 8 learner to be their “slave”, for lack of a better word. You’d be subjected to all manner of degrading and embarrassing things, of which carrying their bags and/or books beside them was the least humiliating. You'd have a pet rock that you had to carry around and you're told that it's your best friend. You have to talk to it (on some occasions ‘made’ to talk with it by the grade 12 student that was ‘in charge’ of you). You were to care for it, wash it, even to clothe it if your grade 12 student said it’s what your ‘best friend’ wanted. Also, you were supposed to wear black refuse bags over your uniform because they saw you as ‘garbage’ in the school - something that was pointed out to you on a regular basis. During my initiation, I was "ordered" to propose to a grade 12 girl (yes, there were girls in the boys school too) as a joke by my grade 12 student. She rejected the proposal and continued to make fun of me for being of no value to her or anyone else I could later get together with and continued to degrade me in front of the group she was standing with. 

Then, at the end of these initiations, they'd choose a nickname for you, and they weren’t particularly of the “nice” variety. In my grade 8 class, there were two boys who came from the same primary school I did, and to mess with me, they made up outlandish stories of my exploits in the previous school. The stories spread throughout the grade, then the school. Students would avoid me, walk half-moons around me to avoid coming into contact with me. I was alone in that school. With what's been going on in class and in the courtyard, as well as with my mother pressuring me to do better, I shut down and my grades subsequently took a nose-dive for the worst. It was around this time that I also figured out I was different, that I had an attraction to boys instead of girls. So, I hid that from everyone, not wanting to give students more ammo to unload onto me. Around grade 10, I wanted to leave school, to leave all that crap behind me, to start looking toward alternatives like home schooling. My mother was against the idea, so I had to go back to that place. I started writing really dark poetry, really sad and disturbing things. I thought of suicide sometimes, even on how to go through with it. Once, I even tried to, but I can safely say that popping back an entire box of sleeping pills does not work at all. I woke up the next morning as if nothing had changed, had to eat breakfast and get ready for school... again. The other options would have been too painful, that pain along with what I was already going through would have made it intolerable, so I didn't go through with them. However bad things were there, I made it through high school, however battered and scarred with the torment I had to undergo. 

I started working as soon as I got out of school. My mother was a single parent, so I didn't have the prospect of studying after school, to pursue the writing career I wanted, or even to study psychology (for self-diagnosing and self-treatment, then to possibly help others with the same problems). I was stuck with a job that didn't make me happy. Then, at 19, I came out to my brothers. They already knew, my younger brother being leagues more supportive than the other (who just shook his head at me). I went on to come out to my grandparents, who took it really well, and they support me to this day. Then I had to tell my mother. I should admit though, it was not something I looked forward to. I knew how she was - her being indifferent when it came to my problems and her irrational religious views. So I had her sit down, told her that I had something to tell her, though she didn't want to hear it at first. She had “something else to do” and I was busy wasting her time. So I just blurted out that I am gay. She sat there staring at me for a while. I thought she was just taking it all in. She got up and walked over to her bible, picked it up and turned around to face me again. The quiet before the storm, I remember… She went on a rant, that what I am is an abomination in the eyes of her lord; that I am a sinner; I'm a selfish son, putting myself before her, and her lord; That I should rather reconsider my orientation, to spare HER the shame... I told her it's who I am, that I can't change it, and I needed her support. She told me that if that was the case, then I'm not her son as of that moment. She told me to pack my bags and get out of her house. She would have disowned me if my grandmother hadn't stepped in and slapped some sense into her. She came around in the end… though I still get weird looks from time to time. 

At the age of 20, I was in my first relationship. I was somewhat happier than I used to be, though still with the dark cloud of my past looming over me. I kept my past to myself and focused on making my partner happy - making him happy made me happy. Unfortunately, as all things in my miserable life, the happiness didn't last long, when he "found someone else" on my birthday, while we were still going out. Putting an end to a three year relationship. I've made attempts at finding someone else after that, which only failed. Until two years ago. I got acquainted with someone on the social network MXit, he was funny, he was spontaneous and a little weird. We got along remarkably well. We could talk for hours at a time about the simplest everyday thing. It all went great… until it abruptly ended at the beginning of this year. It broke me. A crushing weight came down on me with all the bad things that have happened to me until that day, everything I've been through rushing back into place to trigger all the feelings of hopelessness and the despair and the many other insecurities that have built up over the years. I’m not even going to start on my career path, because that’s one rollercoaster of a fuckup I'm not getting into. 

Going through all this, I knew I needed help. So being the Google Nerd that I am, I started a search for support and advice and came upon a little forum community called Empty Closets. For a week I browsed their support threads looking for things that relate to my story, and although there were some helpful pieces, none of it really struck home for me. So I registered. Approached an Advisor on the member list and told him everything. 

Things are going better now, though there are still times when I feel like hanging myself up in my room with wet toilet paper. I have opened up to some people and have gotten really helpful feedback since then. Where once I would have withdrawn and hid myself behind a mask, now I do not put it on as much. As they say, “old habits die hard,” and for me this is true. It’s not easy. But I try. I will make the best of myself.

And no, this is not a “Pity Party,” so put those cookies away. 

This is just my story. This is me.