Speranza

Standard

when i was younger my mother sat my siblings and i down, gave each our own note book and said i want you to write half a page everyday of anything, things that bother you, what your feeling or thinking it could be anything she said… i don’t remember if someone asked but she told us that we could put anything we wanted in there and that nobody would know because nobody would be able to read it…

i wrote a lot from that point on, i felt safe there and found a form of comfort… it would ease my mind and i not only vented there i used my journals as an escape… i knew there i could get as dark and vulnerable as i wanted… it was exactly what i needed.. my mothers instincts must have told her the kids needed somewhere that would give them a momentary escape from the chaotic surroundings… i never talked to or opened up to anybody so it was perfect for me, i finally had someone who would just listen to me for hours and hours

… it would seem like at some point someone has to violate you, and this person went through me and my brothers journal.. i didn’t know how much was read, but i made it a point after that to keep it hidden… that little journal was all i had to comfort me…

One night in writing, i thought how lonely i felt with it because granted i was getting a release with it, i wasn’t getting a response to tell me everything would be okay… I brought my journal to life, i don’t know what made me think i could but i did.. i had issues with men so i knew it couldn’t be a man, but i was comfortable with women.. I knew my journal was a her, i named her *Speranza*.. Speranza means Hope in Italian… Speranza gave me hope, and every time i wrote she was right there….

I usually left my journal at home but I brought it with me to this house when i was younger, i should have known better because if violating me when i was younger was that easy for this person, then doing it when i was older would be no different.. I ended up leaving it there but i didn’t remember right away.. i had to go back over to this house real quick and when i walked in, this person was buried and lost in a notebook, i didn’t think anything of it and it didn’t register that it was my journal being read.. later on that evening someone called my mom and said i forgot my journal at the house and that it was being read by this person… When mom told me all i could think of was “hopefully this person read the entries about their actions done to me as a child and much i hated them for it”….

i never let no one know anything of me, no one would understand me anyways.. i completely gave up on Speranza after that… the one place i had always felt safe no longer protected me… When this person who read my journal told my mom that one of her kids were gonna commit suicide, i knew a lot of my journal had been read… what was writing my thoughts supposed to do for me when people kept peering into my mind, how do i trust in that when trusting in it i became violated…

it was awhile before i wrote again, and i found comfort and something else to ease my mind… it only provided so much comfort, granted the occasional line on a center console or mirror numbed me it didn’t release my thoughts like writing did… and granted the puzzle pieces brought me into a whole new world and helped me escape my present reality, but that escape was only a moment and when the puzzle piece wore off i was back in reality…

I needed more then what that offered, and when i started getting my life together i went back to the journal, i went back to a place where i found the most comfort…. at that point i figured if anyone went through them it wouldn’t matter..

i recently saw those journals i wrote in so many years ago and i realized that Speranza (hope) didn’t go anywhere, she waited for me to feel comfortable with her again… and that even though i gave up on Speranza……

she didn’t give up on me…

 

Creating Your Own Fate

Standard

Karma… I was told growing up that what i did to other people, people would do to me or if i stole i would have my things stolen…

When i was barely a teenager i would See thick stacks of 100$ bills tucked away in cabinets or in the bathroom or what appeared to be a book but when i opened it up it had the middle taken out and was filled with 100$ bills and every time i saw piles of cash like that i thought to myself their not gonna notice 2 or 3 hundred dollars missing but every single time i took it within minutes they came looking for me… I couldn’t get away with it, i got caught every single time….

I was a few months away from turning 18 when i started working and I didn’t want to open a bank account i preferred just to keep cash and hid it in certain spots i thought no one would find.. every check i cashed i started noticing i was missing money, 20 here 40 there sometimes even more and i was pissed off every time because i didn’t make that much, and after awhile of getting my money stolen i thought, how mad could i possibly be at that… karma was collecting the debt’s i owed… but i began to wonder if karma showed favoritism and was more lenient on some and went into full force with others.. I knew i stole a lot and had a lot to account for but i stole from crooks and plus i was a kid… it took me being a little older to realize that whether i was stealing from a crook or an honest man that karma was karma….

i wondered why it took place so quick with me and yet with others who had done far worse things within the family it took so long for karma to make its presence known with them… maybe karma expected more out of me that’s why it came so quick…. for awhile it seemed the more evil you were the longer or less likely karma came around..

I thought that until one night while i was out i got a phone call from my mother who informed me that someone had died…From what i am told this person was hit by a vehicle and didn’t die right away, this person suffered for quite sometime….. In being hit, it crushed their chest and completely paralyzed this person.. This person was left in a wheel, on an oxygen tank to assist their breathing, bags that filled when going to the bathroom and could hear but couldn’t speak…

i saw this individual after the accident and noticed how completely different this person looked… i saw someone vulnerable, fragile, frail and completely helpless… i thought about the moments as a child in the locked garage when not just my clothes were stripped but my life was completely stripped and shattered… i struggled for so many years from the demented things i was put through, i remained silent and didn’t want to talk about those moments and i saw how life took their voice… Those moments haunted me all my life and at times when i saw this person their was a look of fear in their eyes like maybe the accident played as a haunting memory , or perhaps the things this person did to me as a child were haunting their memories… those moments this person hurt me i was completely helpless and for awhile this person sat very helpless… i saw how life made this person feel everything i felt… This person had their way with me as a child, but life now had it’s way with this person…

I realize now that at some point life catches up with everybody, it shows no favoritism like i thought and goes after some quicker than others.. i see karma leaves no debt uncollected.. it takes time to set up that moment for karma to go into full effect….

Imprinted Memories

Standard

When i was in middle school i was completely rebellious and rowdy, got in trouble Alot, frequent fights and poor choices probably was my form of release from the things that were taking place but in doing that it gave me a couple trips to behavior school and then a moment of standing before a judge… before i walked in my attorney tells me “the judge is pushing for you to do jail time so when you get in their do not smile do not frown and answer her yes ma’am no ma’am”, she was obviously in a pissed off mood and my hearing didn’t make her anymore happy… i walked in and shot down everything inside of me so i wouldn’t bring attention to myself exactly like my attorney had said to do, little did he know i was completely accustomed to acting like that, i did it all the time…

I had around 140 hrs of community service to do, all of which i did at the elementary school down the street, one of the nights there i had finished up and my beeper beeped with a message from my “step-dad” that read “i will pick you up after your done, be in front of the school”… after i was done around maybe 9’oclock i got out and looked for his jaguar, but the night was eerily quiet, it started to make me nervous and after waiting a few minutes i thought perhaps he didn’t see me so i decided to walk up a little ways to where their was more light so it would be easier for him to spot me, he eventually found me and after i got in and closed the door he freaked out because i wasn’t in front of the school like he said, he must have thought i couldn’t hear him screaming so he lowered the already low sounding music, he turned to look at me and once he saw his yelling wasn’t affecting me he took his right hand off the steering wheel and without hesitation swung the back of his hand into my chest in a fit of rage for the duration of the red light, the light turned green which was probably the go ahead for him to stop and he was completely winded it took him a minute to catch his breathe.. The silence in the car was more deafening than his yelling… I was already in shock by the whole thing but when he said “If you say Anything to your mother it will be 10 times worse” it made me even more freaked out… as i walked into the house completely unfazed by what had just taken place,  i saw my mother and i put my head down and walked up the stairs and she asked if everything is okay and my “step-father” answered for me and said yeah he is fine he’s just tired…

All these years later, i began speaking through my silence and in telling my mother about it, i felt as if i had completely re-opened that memory… that moment played so clear for me, i can still hear how quiet it got after it settled down, i can still feel the impact of the back of his hand against my chest or the thud it made as he hit my chest… i feel like those moments of shock are imprinted into your memory and reserved for a later time when your ready to come to terms with things….

In settling things within myself that memory opened up to me, and while i realize that the “why’s” are rarely met with an answer, and the i am sorry are rarely genuine if they are even given at all…. As i let the memory play for me, i gave it back to him because i am sure if it played that clear for me it would play that clear for him and in seeing, hearing and feeling what i felt maybe he then would realize what he put me through….

After all, that was his memory he left imprinted on me…..

interpreting scriptures

Standard

My mother didn’t believe in pushing religion on us or shoving god down our throat, she instead let us pick and choose whatever it is we wanted to believe in and would back us regardless of belief… my real grandfather on the other hand spoke to us every chance he could about the bible and being catholic… if it were not for his devotion and complete faith towards god perhaps i would not have seen the “god complex” that certain people in my life held..

Being told i would not enter the gates of heaven unless i was baptized, or that i should go out of my way to find my “real dad” because it’s the commandment, being told i needed to confess my sins, or that i would be going to hell because i am catholic and the brown scapular i wore was insulting to god or that i would be damned to hell if i wasn’t saved along with so many other things, were it wasn’t about just talking about the bible to me it was more like these people felt as if they had that power to judge and damn people to hell as if they were god him self… some where along the lines of learning the bible they developed a god complex….

i am aware of the verse we are all made in his likeness, but i am not aware of any scriptures that say people hold that power to damn others to hell… being told you needed to be saved or if i did anything wrong in life you would burn in hell is one thing and therefore their distorted translation of scriptures gave me this idea that god is unforgiving and merciless, but once i started to read the bible i saw they failed to mention the fact that god is a compassionate and forgiving god…

i let people express their views on the bible but i saw in that expressing how they view bible it was simply their interpretation of the bible and instead of taking their word for it i began to look it up for myself… my real grandfather in reciting scriptures gets pissed off at the devil and never fails to say “GODDAMN THE DEVIL” eventually my mother had enough of that and tells him to not take the lords name in vain at all around her and his reply to that is “i feel like god gives me that right to use his name in vain”… i have yet to come across a scripture that says under any circumstance taking his name in vain is alright. or another person who is told that a scripture states “if god be for you who can be against you” and he interpreted that as “if you are not for me, then you are against me”, obviously everyone interprets scriptures differently but life has shown me some who feel as if they are god him self…

just because you claim to understand the bible doesn’t make you god, or having made mass and getting those jesus wafers and a sip of wine doesn’t make you superior to anyone else, and not one church is more holier and more worthy of heaven than another …              after all isn’t it the same god we all acknowledge?

The bible offers so many different things to people, but i wouldn’t have thought it would have been a means to inflate peoples ego and give them a “god complex”

To see and hear people feel superior to god to the point where they feel they are god is awful and i am sure that in it being written there wasn’t the intention for making you feel like it’s to twist and distort in ways that work and only apply to yourself…

Finding God

Standard

as a child and being told that all i have in this life is god… well… i come from a strong catholic background from my grandfather that lost its strength with my mother whom never pushed religion on any of us kids and left it for us to decide what to believe in… my grandfather on the other hand swore and lives by it… all his kids slowly strayed and found their ways in different churches other than the catholic church… i on the other hand prayed wholehearted as much as i could, especially being in the type of atmosphere i was in and feeling as alone as i felt i relied on god and not so much the church or religion those 2 did nothing for me, but in some strange way i thought god could… it started with prayers to have things change but i noticed the more i prayed for change the worse things became… then i started to pray for an intervention only to find even less of god in that… then the prayer for a sign that went unanswered and all i could think was how it did nothing for me and as steadfast in prayer as i was quickly changed to an all out avoidance of anything that had to do with “god” … i knew or at least i thought he was there but that i wouldn’t allow myself to feel completely ignored and shunned by god…

now had i known that “GOD” had his own twitter account i would never had second guessed his existence…. @thetweetofgod