Psycho Trip

I started out high school in August of 2002 at East Peoria Community High School. At the time I didn’t have a girlfriend, I didn’t have a job, and I had other problems to top them off. It wasn’t the worse thing that someone of my age had to worry about but it was worse than some of the other kids in my class. At my freshman year I weighed in at 240 pounds, 6’0” tall, and enough naïve thinking to power several kids my age. My life up till then had been a very rough one and its something that even surprises me that I have turned out so well.

To my surprise I learned that my mother had been a drug addict that met my ex-step father for all the wrong reasons years ago. Even though she has changed a great deal since then, the fact remains that she went to this man for all the wrong reasons. She went to him for drugs, alcohol, and other parts of the life style that may still be in the dark. This man stayed in my life for many years and the damage to me as a child should have carried over to many problems that I should have now but my resolve is stronger than the events that should have demolished it, and my dreams along with it. The most chilling tale of hardship in my life is the pivotal point in my life when most kids of the age I was then would have effectively went bad.

When I was younger, even though the events have led me to forget when it all happened exactly, my step-father at the time was a heavy drinker. We lived in East Peoria at the time but I went to Glendale Middle School, so it was around the fifth grade. I remember, rather well, the night that my childhood changed forever and a true loathing for the man that is now my ex-step father came about. It was probably around midnight and my mother and step father came home from a night out at the bar. My little sister and I had been lying in wait for them to get home but before we could get up to go see our mother the shouting and fighting started. My little sister and I turned back and went to lie down again. We had heard the fights before and the loud shouting scared us into not interfering. After a time of shouting and cursing the fighting turned physical. We could hear the loud thuds as our mother hit the ground several times and was shouting for our step father to stop. Every so often we would hear her run though the house to get away but it just kept up. My sister and I cried in our pillows, even after the silence descended on the house. We finally fell asleep as the tears of fear of what had happened still came. The feeling of pure helplessness that I felt left me feeling angry at myself for not being able to get up to help my mother. It was probably for the best. The next morning we woke up and went to our mother, who was black and blue on one side of her face. We came to find out that our step father had beaten her, to near death, fracturing one side of her face in 52 places, that night and charges were pressed. He went into rehab for his addiction problem and remained on probation for his behavior for many years. At that time it was up to me to decide whether or not I was going to use these sour events as an excuse for behavior, as most troubled children do. I decided against it.

With his probation still running and a watch being placed on him, he decided to get to us through mental abuse. Many years I had to endure loud shouting and helplessness out of fear of being hurt myself. As the years ran on my patience and self control began to thin out. I grew wary of being around him in the house at all times and I found myself accepting blame for things that I didn’t do so that he would leave me alone. The climax of all the problems came when I went to a friend’s house and was told to be home at a certain time. I called my mom to let her know that I was staying a little bit later and came home. As I got home my ex-step father rolled in to the garage at roughly the same time. I stood out in the garage till he got parked to let him know that I had told my mom I was going to be late so I wouldn’t have to listen to him yell about it. I got inside and got ready for bed and he came in to the house and went to my room. He accused me of taking a beer from his stock and we had a shouting match. He walked up to me and put his hand around my throat and threw me on the bed. My mother woke up to the noise and I told her of what had happened. My mother and ex-step father began fighting over me and I packed my things and went to stay at a friends. I didn’t return home for about a week, when my ex-step father was gone out of the house. The events then snowballed to separation and then divorce and my mother finally met a guy that treats her right. Better later than never, I always say and she finally, after all those years, got up the courage and divorced and left him my junior year of high school.

Its strange to see how those events have affected me. I use those events and behaviors of that step father as guidelines of what not to do as an adult and I have decided to disassociate myself from those negative events. As a result I have effectively shut down any chance of those events replaying in my life. I use that very same step father as a perfect role model of how to not act. To this day I still haven’t forgiven him for all the suffering he put us through and I probably never will. Even so, I can at least thank him for the knowledge of how an uncivilized human being behaves and for allowing me to model myself to be opposite of how he acted. I also have an idea of how to act as a father when that time comes.