I showed my therapist my journal today. She said is well thought out and expressed myself better in writing than I did when I talked. Which made me feel good about myself. She did say that I need to talk more about growing up. I really don't want to. However, if I want to ever be able to live a normal life once I am out of here I have to she says.
I don't know where to begin I think the earliest memory was living above a Chinese restaurant. I was 5 at the time I think. I was in kindergarten. Like I said earlier my clothes were all used clothing. So, nothing ever really fit or matched or up to date.
Even then I was conscious of how different my life was from other kids. I mean people weren't cruel or anything. They just didn't give a shit. I don't know if it was the fact that I was insignificant to them or they were so consumed by their own problems.
My teacher was nice though she would try to get the other kids to play with me. I remember on day after school while we waited in the playground for someone to pick us up there was a girl in my class. I think her name was Sarah.
"Sarah can I play too?"
"No. I am not allowed to play with you."
"Because my mommy says your poor, dirty and have bugs."
"Oh." I said.
I knew I wasn't dirty I took a batch every night brushed my teeth comber my hair. I never saw bugs on me. I had seen dogs with bugs they were always scratching I don't scratch a lot like they do. I didn't know what poor was. Every few moths Mommy would get me some new clothes from the goodwill store. I liked it there. They always had toys. If I was good and if mommy wasn't sick and needed medicine. She would buy me a toy.
I didn't know what she meant all I knew was it made me sad. I tried not to, but I started crying. All I wanted has to play ball with the kids. While I waited for someone to pick me up from school.
Usually it was Mrs. Chen who picked me up. She didn't speak much English, but she was always nice to me. She and Mr. Chen owned the restaurant and the building our apartment was in. I liked when she picked me up I would sit in the corner and she would give me a coloring book and a few cookies while I waited for mommy to come home.
Today though Mommy picked me up. I could tell she was feeling sick and needed her medicine. She saw me sitting in the corner of the playground crying. She pulled me up by arm.
"Why are you crying like a little girl? What did you do now?" she is pulling me along hurting my arm. I cried even harder from the pain.
"Stop fucking crying. You're such an embarrassment."
I tried to stop. I was quiet, but tears were running down my face. I couldn't stop them. People were looking at us as we walked down the street.
"Fuck Noah. If didn't get money for you I throw you into the nearest dumpster. Now stop acting like a faggot." I was 5, I had no idea what the hell a faggot was.
I don't remember much more until I was 7 we went to stay with my grandparents and my uncle. I remember he was so big. He was in high school and played football. I followed him everywhere. The best thing is he didn't mind he would put me on his shoulders be my little legs couldn't keep up with his long ones.
"Up we Go Noah. Your little legs can't keep up and you're too valuable to lose."
"Will I be big like you?"
"Sure, will little buddy. It's in the genes he said as he sat me down on a wall."
I remember looking into my jeans when he said that. He laughed. "Yeah there to Lil bud."
I didn't understand it but If Uncle Jared said it. That meant it was true.
Uncle Jared was so cool he had plenty of girlfriends and everyone liked him. I wanted to be just like him. Though girls were yucky to me. I wouldn't want them hanging all over me like they did him. It was Uncle Jared so then it must be alright.
I was in the second grade and everyday Uncle Jared would pick me up from school and I would go back to his school with him while he went football practice. He'd always buy me an ice-cream cone or an Icie before we went home. He would make me finish it before we got home because grandma would like me eating before dinner unless it was a healthy snack. Though most times I wore almost as much as I ate.
The best part was I shared a room with him. If I had a bad dream he put me in bed with him. I was one happy boy.
Thanksgiving was coming up. I wasn't sure what that was. I asked my Mom and she said it was day people used to tell you how rotten a kid you are. I was sure to be the winner that night, she told me. And the rotten kid has to tell everyone thanks for giving them a place to sleep the food and the clothes and everything else they were given. If they forget all the bad things, they did they had to leave.
Thanksgiving was two days away "Uncle Jared I don't want thanksgiving."
"Why not Noah."
"Because I don't want to win the rotten kid thing. I can't remember all the bad things I did and will have to leave."
"I don't understand big guy. Tell me what you think thanksgiving is."
I told him as much as I could remember what my mother told me.
"Your Mom told you that?"
"I asked her what thanksgiving was."
Uncle Jared went down stairs. A few minutes later he came back and crawled into bed with me. I snuggled in against him.
"It will be okay Noah. You are not the rotten kid. You're the best kid ever."
I wanted to believe him. He was Uncle Jared he doesn't lie. He didn't know all the bad things I did though.
I felt my uncle stir and heard him grown. I opened my eyes. I could hear my mother screaming down stairs and my grandmother telling her to calm down.
"Fuck you, old lady, I came here because I thought you might want to meet your grandson. I thought maybe it might help him grow up to be a man. Instead he turned into a fucking liar. Making up stories like that. I would never say that about Thanksgiving. We are leaving. Jared is a bad influence." She screamed.
"Emily please think about this. Wait till after Christmas."
"Fuck you, fuck Thanksgiving. What a joke and there is no such thing as a fucking Christmas as far I am concerned for that brat. He is so bad he won't even get coal."
I heard her stomping up the stairs mumbling what an evil rotten kid I was. I was terrified I knew I was going to be beaten for be a bad boy again. I burrowed into my uncle's chest and he held me tight.
She came barging into the room and tried to grab me from the bed. "Touch him, I swear to God I will beat the fuck out of you." My Uncle Jared said to mother. My mother moved forward but Uncle Jared pushed me behind him.
"Don't Em. I will do it."
My mom must have believed him because she left. I heard her stomp down the stairs and out the door.
"It's OK Noah, no one will hurt you as long as I am around.
The next day my mother left with me in tow.
It was pretty much the same over the next few years. My mom and I never went back to my grandparents or my uncle. I never got to meet my aunt Ruth because she was away at school.
Now that I have, even though I am older, I am glad I didn't.
By the time I was 10 I had learned a lot of things about my mom. She didn't like me and blamed me for everything. I learned never to cry. If did I was a faggot. That if I wanted I food I had to get it myself. That my mother's idea of Christmas was staying in the crack house and stay away from me. Which was a Christmas present in itself. It meant not being beaten by a belt because of so conceived misdoing on my part. Usually my just breathing pissed her off.
My sex education started early. My mother had no problem fucking guys while I was in the room or in the same bed for that matter. It wasn't like I could pretend I was asleep she was pretty loud not to mention the bed bouncing. I usually just got up and slept in the bathroom. Who wants to see their mother riding a dick? So, you can see my childhood pretty much sucked.
So, at the age of 10, I was going to churches to get food and clothing. If I was luck laundry soap and other the basics. Fast food joints were where I got my toilet paper, napkins, soap and cleaners. Plenty of times though newspaper would be used to wipe my ass. Using up the toilet paper was worth a beating with the belt buckle.
When I was 14 my mom met Joe. Joe was a truck driver. I think it was more for my sake than hers, that Joe took us in. Joe treated me great I felt like I had some normalcy in my life. He would be on the road for weeks but that was okay my mom stayed off my back. I had my own room so if brought home a john I would have to have the visuals.
She never brought one back when Joe was home though. I guess she figured out Joe only let her stay because of me and she had to watch her step. She had to be the good mother and so on. I don't think Joe was fooled though.
We lived in a trailer. It wasn't a luxury model. You know them double wide jobs. Just a small older one but it was clean and in good repair. Like I said I had my own room. Which was awesome to me. Joe even had a computer, so I could check out porn on the internet.
I would see bits of news about my hazard family. I knew my uncle was in the marines. I figured I wouldn't try to contact them. I have to admit I did once I found my grandparents number and called it. My grandmother answered I didn't say anything she just kept saying hello. Them she said Emily. I hung up.
I did though stalk my uncle kind of. I looked at his Facebook follower his marine career. I was scared when he went to Iraq. I figured he probably forgot about me, but I couldn't forget about him. He was still my Uncle Jared. I still idolized him. He was awesome. Even if he forgot about me.
When I was fifteen the inevitable happened my mom over dosed on heron. I felt bad. Not because my mom died. Because I was glad she was gone. I figured me a Joe can chill and relax and be happy. Maybe he can get him a nice girl. By this time, I pretty much figured out I was a gay. Joe knew said he didn't care. His exact words were: Whatever trips your trigger kid is cool with me. Just make sure you put the safety on and threw me a box of condoms.
Unfortunately, it didn't work out that way. I was sent to my grandparents.
Sorry this is so short folks but Noah's therapist orders. I am sure he will have to do this more often to get out those demons of his past. Even if he doesn't want too.