We had a reader express wanting to know who was who in the photos. Here is a description;
1. Joe (JBoogie) - Big guy, darkest skin of all three, more hair than the other two. By nature, he tends to always stand as if posing. (First pic)
2. Scott (Lil Brother) - Big guy, lighter skin, visible freckles (second pic)
3. Christopher (Nanaki) - Skinny version of Scott, even less hair than the other two. (Third pic / bottom)
Hopefully, this clears things up. We now return you to your regularly scheduled program.
23 April 2011
Throw Trauma From The Train
We have a bad habit of only focusing on the scars we see, denying that the unseen even exists. It makes them far more dangerous.
I find it a shame when parents think there is something shameful about accepting or asking for advice when it comes to raising children. I mean...it isn't like children come with a manual. There are the basic, common sense rules; feed them, don't break thier bones, send them to school. Believe it or not, even those are lost on some people. I digress. I don't think asking for or accepting input from others makes you a bad parent...I think it makes you a smart parent. Part of it is ego. Part of it is guilt because they fear they ARE doing something wrong. Ever hear someone say "It's my kid and I don't need no one telling me how to raise them?"
Listening to advice, doesn't mean you have to take it!
So, with all that said. Here is what I've learned recently. A few days ago I attended a two-day meeting/training event in Nowhere, Oklahoma. The last day of training we covered trauma. It was a wonderful training and a highlight of the day.
Let me explain something, I am not one of those "throw medicine at it", "pay a psychiatrists a ton of money" fanatics. Everything is an individual problem, which requires an individual solution. This training, however, was a productive look at who we are and how we are shaped as people.
I learned that "Trauma" is defined as any event that is too painful to deal with. It usually results in some sort of change to the thoughts and behaviors of a person.
Beatings as a Form of Punishment...There is a swat on the butt or hand. There is a thrashing with a belt, fly swatter...usually a wild and random swinging of the object hitting whatever it comes in contact with. Finally, there is the sharp slap or punch, leaving a definate bruise.The middle one was/is wildly popular. Let's really look at these.
Lil Brother suffered the most extreme examples of physical abuse (read his recent blog). Most of us realize this is TOO far and unacceptable. My brother getting kicked in his head by our grandmother was the event that was too painful. The change was to his body and mind, causing him to studder. It also affects how he treats his children, how he views and interacts with women...and so on. If you leave bruises on your child, cause bleeding, or break thier bones...seek help. It's easy to understand why this form of trauma is a problem.
I probably had the middle one. I was hit with belts, sticks, a walking cane, my a-mom's ringed hand...For me, as I look back...this was traumatic. There are several elements to think about; my already sensative nature, how long the ass-whippings went on, and the screaming that accompanied it. Think about the following; As an adult, how do you respond when people scream at you? When they get right in your face? Do your emotions escalate? Now imagine you are threatened not to respond or react in any way or the beatings and screamings will go on longer and harder. If screaming affects you in a negative way, why would it be healthy for a kid who has yet to figure out his way in life. My a-mother grew up in a culture that thought this was the only way to get a child to do what they wanted. What she actually accomplished was making me nervous to the point of mutilating my fingers/hands, make me insecure about my decision-making abilities, and feel as if my thoughts and feelings weren't valid or important. I attribute my past inability to share my feelings to her way of forbiding me to talk about my feelings.
Now, screaming at your child and telling them what to do, without feeling the need to explain why is common. I think we have all heard of parents who say "Because I said so" and getting angry because the kid won't just do what they say. Seriously? Are you teaching your kid to think things through for themselves or are you teaching them to follow whatever authority figures say? And we wonder why some kids "never learn" as they become adults. It's because they were never really "tought" how to solve problems. I always take an extra minute to explain because the next time a similar issue comes up, I want them to be able to think it through. Screaming at them for every mistake or for asking questions, only teaches them to try to please you and guess at what will make you "not angry"...It does not teach them to make the right decisions.
Trauma can often lead to a person re-living the moment when they should be responding. For example, my nephews' mother...I am actually respectful of her for holding down a job, going to school, and raising 3 boys pretty much on her own for many years. I couldn't do it. So my next comment is not an insult...just a fact. She makes me nervous. Why? Because she tends to scream alot. When she does, it sends me back to my childhood where my mother screamed night and day, leaving me exhausted and a jittery mess...afraid of everything. Therefore, my mind goes blank sometimes when my sister-in-law is having rounds with the boys.
Now, don't get me wrong. No way you can raise children without raising your voice. I'm not stupid. Like everything, though...there IS a limit. My mom just strictly responded out of frustration, but it traumatized me...not strictly because of what she did, but also because of who I was. An overly sensative kid removed from his birth mother.
Name calling can be traumatizing too. Ask my brothers about being called "niggers". Hell, ask me about being called stupid when I tried so hard to please my a-mom. You keep calling someone a certain name, subconciously it is going to affect them. For instance, there was a young man I was a caretaker for. He had been told by his family (and by the justice system) that he was a sex offender because at the age of like 8 or 10, he got curious about his sister. Instead of just saying "that's wrong, don't do it again" they labled him. For the next 8-10 years that was all he heard..."sex offender". He got to where he would not go around other people's children and did not want to have kids of his own because he had been labled this ugly word over a one-time incident.
Depriving a child of food, affection, clothes...can also cause trauma. Scott had food in the house and was not allowed to eat it. I went through the same thing as a teenager. It altered how we both eat as adults. For me, it became unhealthy eating habits of starving myself, gorging...maybe contributed to my hypoglycemia (though i'm only guessing). Joseph was deprived of affection and protection from his dad. Now, he sometimes has trouble "going there" with his emotions.
In relation to everything we are sharing with you, our readers, our traumatic events were caused by the people that our simple minds percieved to be the ones to protect us and provide us with all our needs. It's like having a killer after you. Going to the police, and having the police try to kill you. It's a mind f*ck of never believing that anyone has really got your back.
Truth is...the black and blue heals. The wounds dry up. Yet, the chemical changes to our brains are a bitch to try to undo as an adult. I'm learning more and more about what my brothers went through and one day all I could say was "It's too much. It was too much." over and over. The adults in our lives expected too much from us.
I can't blame my parents or adult relatives. They did the best they knew how to do. Psychology was even more laughed at when I was little. Things like psychological trauma were just "made up" according to the culture I grew up in. But Scott and Joseph; no, the adults in their lives...thier family and what they did and didn't do...It was beyond awful.
My 10+ years of working with, for, and around children has tought me more than I could have ever dreamt about my childhood and understanding children. The most complex thing though...is learning that the ones that cause trauma are usually traumatizing themselves in the process.
If I were going to wrap this blog up and describe its point; I would say...You're going to get angry with your children. But make sure that your love is always present and comes first, even when you're not happy with them. (I got in the habit of saying things to my nephs, like "I love you, but if you don't stop arguing I'm turning the game off") Spend as much time rewarding good behavior, as you do punishing bad behavior. And make sure you aren't punishing to make yourself feel better, isntead of doing it to teach a lesson. Finally, don't be too proud to ask for help. Sometimes we are too close to a problem to see the solution.
I find it a shame when parents think there is something shameful about accepting or asking for advice when it comes to raising children. I mean...it isn't like children come with a manual. There are the basic, common sense rules; feed them, don't break thier bones, send them to school. Believe it or not, even those are lost on some people. I digress. I don't think asking for or accepting input from others makes you a bad parent...I think it makes you a smart parent. Part of it is ego. Part of it is guilt because they fear they ARE doing something wrong. Ever hear someone say "It's my kid and I don't need no one telling me how to raise them?"
Listening to advice, doesn't mean you have to take it!
So, with all that said. Here is what I've learned recently. A few days ago I attended a two-day meeting/training event in Nowhere, Oklahoma. The last day of training we covered trauma. It was a wonderful training and a highlight of the day.
Let me explain something, I am not one of those "throw medicine at it", "pay a psychiatrists a ton of money" fanatics. Everything is an individual problem, which requires an individual solution. This training, however, was a productive look at who we are and how we are shaped as people.
I learned that "Trauma" is defined as any event that is too painful to deal with. It usually results in some sort of change to the thoughts and behaviors of a person.
Beatings as a Form of Punishment...There is a swat on the butt or hand. There is a thrashing with a belt, fly swatter...usually a wild and random swinging of the object hitting whatever it comes in contact with. Finally, there is the sharp slap or punch, leaving a definate bruise.The middle one was/is wildly popular. Let's really look at these.
Lil Brother suffered the most extreme examples of physical abuse (read his recent blog). Most of us realize this is TOO far and unacceptable. My brother getting kicked in his head by our grandmother was the event that was too painful. The change was to his body and mind, causing him to studder. It also affects how he treats his children, how he views and interacts with women...and so on. If you leave bruises on your child, cause bleeding, or break thier bones...seek help. It's easy to understand why this form of trauma is a problem.
I probably had the middle one. I was hit with belts, sticks, a walking cane, my a-mom's ringed hand...For me, as I look back...this was traumatic. There are several elements to think about; my already sensative nature, how long the ass-whippings went on, and the screaming that accompanied it. Think about the following; As an adult, how do you respond when people scream at you? When they get right in your face? Do your emotions escalate? Now imagine you are threatened not to respond or react in any way or the beatings and screamings will go on longer and harder. If screaming affects you in a negative way, why would it be healthy for a kid who has yet to figure out his way in life. My a-mother grew up in a culture that thought this was the only way to get a child to do what they wanted. What she actually accomplished was making me nervous to the point of mutilating my fingers/hands, make me insecure about my decision-making abilities, and feel as if my thoughts and feelings weren't valid or important. I attribute my past inability to share my feelings to her way of forbiding me to talk about my feelings.
Now, screaming at your child and telling them what to do, without feeling the need to explain why is common. I think we have all heard of parents who say "Because I said so" and getting angry because the kid won't just do what they say. Seriously? Are you teaching your kid to think things through for themselves or are you teaching them to follow whatever authority figures say? And we wonder why some kids "never learn" as they become adults. It's because they were never really "tought" how to solve problems. I always take an extra minute to explain because the next time a similar issue comes up, I want them to be able to think it through. Screaming at them for every mistake or for asking questions, only teaches them to try to please you and guess at what will make you "not angry"...It does not teach them to make the right decisions.
Trauma can often lead to a person re-living the moment when they should be responding. For example, my nephews' mother...I am actually respectful of her for holding down a job, going to school, and raising 3 boys pretty much on her own for many years. I couldn't do it. So my next comment is not an insult...just a fact. She makes me nervous. Why? Because she tends to scream alot. When she does, it sends me back to my childhood where my mother screamed night and day, leaving me exhausted and a jittery mess...afraid of everything. Therefore, my mind goes blank sometimes when my sister-in-law is having rounds with the boys.
Now, don't get me wrong. No way you can raise children without raising your voice. I'm not stupid. Like everything, though...there IS a limit. My mom just strictly responded out of frustration, but it traumatized me...not strictly because of what she did, but also because of who I was. An overly sensative kid removed from his birth mother.
Name calling can be traumatizing too. Ask my brothers about being called "niggers". Hell, ask me about being called stupid when I tried so hard to please my a-mom. You keep calling someone a certain name, subconciously it is going to affect them. For instance, there was a young man I was a caretaker for. He had been told by his family (and by the justice system) that he was a sex offender because at the age of like 8 or 10, he got curious about his sister. Instead of just saying "that's wrong, don't do it again" they labled him. For the next 8-10 years that was all he heard..."sex offender". He got to where he would not go around other people's children and did not want to have kids of his own because he had been labled this ugly word over a one-time incident.
Depriving a child of food, affection, clothes...can also cause trauma. Scott had food in the house and was not allowed to eat it. I went through the same thing as a teenager. It altered how we both eat as adults. For me, it became unhealthy eating habits of starving myself, gorging...maybe contributed to my hypoglycemia (though i'm only guessing). Joseph was deprived of affection and protection from his dad. Now, he sometimes has trouble "going there" with his emotions.
In relation to everything we are sharing with you, our readers, our traumatic events were caused by the people that our simple minds percieved to be the ones to protect us and provide us with all our needs. It's like having a killer after you. Going to the police, and having the police try to kill you. It's a mind f*ck of never believing that anyone has really got your back.
Truth is...the black and blue heals. The wounds dry up. Yet, the chemical changes to our brains are a bitch to try to undo as an adult. I'm learning more and more about what my brothers went through and one day all I could say was "It's too much. It was too much." over and over. The adults in our lives expected too much from us.
I can't blame my parents or adult relatives. They did the best they knew how to do. Psychology was even more laughed at when I was little. Things like psychological trauma were just "made up" according to the culture I grew up in. But Scott and Joseph; no, the adults in their lives...thier family and what they did and didn't do...It was beyond awful.
My 10+ years of working with, for, and around children has tought me more than I could have ever dreamt about my childhood and understanding children. The most complex thing though...is learning that the ones that cause trauma are usually traumatizing themselves in the process.
If I were going to wrap this blog up and describe its point; I would say...You're going to get angry with your children. But make sure that your love is always present and comes first, even when you're not happy with them. (I got in the habit of saying things to my nephs, like "I love you, but if you don't stop arguing I'm turning the game off") Spend as much time rewarding good behavior, as you do punishing bad behavior. And make sure you aren't punishing to make yourself feel better, isntead of doing it to teach a lesson. Finally, don't be too proud to ask for help. Sometimes we are too close to a problem to see the solution.
21 April 2011
Me
I am going to copy Nanaki and do a blog about myself. I believe this will help you understand my likes. What type of person I am.
First thing we will go over is my favs. Lets start off with food, most people do not know this and most have a hard time believing this. I am a vegetarian, there is a reason why I am and no one, not even my brothers know the real reason. Growing up we had one choice when eatting and thats eatting EVERYTHING on your plate. I did not have options of sitting there till your plate was done. I was force fed when I say forced I mean forced. I dont know about you but have you ever had someone shove meat down your throat. For instance Liver most people hate this I was one of these people. You can imagine a young kid not wanting to eat it you would just be like ok well I tried, not the one we call bigmomma. You imagine eatting so much meat you just get so sick. Meat was a nightmare for me it tramatized me to where I would mentally get sick at the taste of it. When being told you have to do this you become a rebel. So I made the choice of just not eatting it anymore.
Second reason and last is that when I was 10 years old I got a bb gun for my birthday. I practiced all the time. I have a good shot even till this day. Anyways I was outside one time shooting cans and what not (Windows, cars) you know typical boys stuff. I saw a bird in the trees and said shit I can hit that with ease. I loaded the gun sat back aimed ever so carefully. I pulled the trigger bam it was a hit. I was so proud of myself. The bird hit the ground so I walked over to check my kill when I did I heard a chirp and the the bird started to flop around. I felt really bad then I heard noises from above and noticed there was a nest. Fuck what did I just do I killed a bird that had a family. I cried threw my gun away and prayed over the bird. I grabbed a shoe box and put the bird inside it and buried the bird and cried some more. I told god please forgive me I would never never kill another animal again for sport or food. Till this day I have never killed or ate another animal. I dont hunt cause hunting is not for me. I dont eat meat cause meat is not for me. My heart is to big.
Favorite food: hmmm Broccoli, asparegus, mexican food.
Favorite TV show: Law and Order, Gangland, Criminal Minds
Favorite Video Game: Splinter Cell
Favorite Moment of all time. I would have to say when I was a child was when Joe and I use to sneak into the pantry and steal jello packets to eat. We use to eat and tell stories or just talk. Even though we got our asses beat for going into the pantry. I remember we use to be like no we was not in the pantry but our fingers and faces was different colors and it was no way we could deny it we tried though.
Favorite Love Movie: City of Angels
Favorite Horror: Friday the 13th any of them
Favorite Action: Faceoff, A man apart
Favorite Female Artist: Alicia Keys
Favorite Male artist: Jamie Foxx
Actors: Denzel Washington, The Rock Tyler Perry
Actress: Angelina Jolie
Hmmm I really cant think of anything else. Hey if yall have questions lets hear them? Atleast Im down.
First thing we will go over is my favs. Lets start off with food, most people do not know this and most have a hard time believing this. I am a vegetarian, there is a reason why I am and no one, not even my brothers know the real reason. Growing up we had one choice when eatting and thats eatting EVERYTHING on your plate. I did not have options of sitting there till your plate was done. I was force fed when I say forced I mean forced. I dont know about you but have you ever had someone shove meat down your throat. For instance Liver most people hate this I was one of these people. You can imagine a young kid not wanting to eat it you would just be like ok well I tried, not the one we call bigmomma. You imagine eatting so much meat you just get so sick. Meat was a nightmare for me it tramatized me to where I would mentally get sick at the taste of it. When being told you have to do this you become a rebel. So I made the choice of just not eatting it anymore.
Second reason and last is that when I was 10 years old I got a bb gun for my birthday. I practiced all the time. I have a good shot even till this day. Anyways I was outside one time shooting cans and what not (Windows, cars) you know typical boys stuff. I saw a bird in the trees and said shit I can hit that with ease. I loaded the gun sat back aimed ever so carefully. I pulled the trigger bam it was a hit. I was so proud of myself. The bird hit the ground so I walked over to check my kill when I did I heard a chirp and the the bird started to flop around. I felt really bad then I heard noises from above and noticed there was a nest. Fuck what did I just do I killed a bird that had a family. I cried threw my gun away and prayed over the bird. I grabbed a shoe box and put the bird inside it and buried the bird and cried some more. I told god please forgive me I would never never kill another animal again for sport or food. Till this day I have never killed or ate another animal. I dont hunt cause hunting is not for me. I dont eat meat cause meat is not for me. My heart is to big.
Favorite food: hmmm Broccoli, asparegus, mexican food.
Favorite TV show: Law and Order, Gangland, Criminal Minds
Favorite Video Game: Splinter Cell
Favorite Moment of all time. I would have to say when I was a child was when Joe and I use to sneak into the pantry and steal jello packets to eat. We use to eat and tell stories or just talk. Even though we got our asses beat for going into the pantry. I remember we use to be like no we was not in the pantry but our fingers and faces was different colors and it was no way we could deny it we tried though.
Favorite Love Movie: City of Angels
Favorite Horror: Friday the 13th any of them
Favorite Action: Faceoff, A man apart
Favorite Female Artist: Alicia Keys
Favorite Male artist: Jamie Foxx
Actors: Denzel Washington, The Rock Tyler Perry
Actress: Angelina Jolie
Hmmm I really cant think of anything else. Hey if yall have questions lets hear them? Atleast Im down.
Growing up!!!! Lil Bro Style
Sure we have all had a rough time growing up. The more I think about it the more I think that our lives was unique growing up. Growing up we have dealt with racism, mental fuckings and severe abuse. My end I want to express and tell yall about some experiences I have been through. So sit back relax and listen to some of my experiences.
Severe abuse is a sore subject with me but my story needs to be told someday. One thing I can take growing up was a ass whooping. You know people talk about how bad that ass whoopin was they got and all i can think of is how I was beaten. People say belts, sticks, shoes etc. The only thing I can say is damn you had it easy. One time I had a dog that was made to attack me when I was being to much of a kid. The dogs name was chip, I remember one time I was made to go and grab his dog food. The one thing you never do is grab chips dog food. I said no but you know that shit did not fly. So I went and cried cried as I reached over to brab the dog food. The worst part was not knowing where the fuck the dog was under the bed. I could hear that damn dog growl and you could hear the tone get deeper and deeper the closer I got to the bowl. I touched the bowl and out came a 45 pound dog chopping at the mouth slobber just flowing out his mouth. I tried to move fast enough but he got my ear and took a huge chunk out of my ear. Blood flowing from my ear and the skin falling off. Being only 10 years old that shit was crazy but not out of the ordinary. You wanna hear the fucked up part my grandmother or so called grandmother laughed her ass off because it was funny.
I remember I could never figure out why I studdard so bad when I was a child until I sit back and think damn she use to beat the shit out of my head. This one time we was over this ladies house named Robin suppose to be my auntie ha. Big Momma (grandmother) was looking for some of her movies and fighting with her daughter over what movies was hers and what not. Being the sweet young attractive little boy I was decided I would help and say this was not her movie, WRONG MISTAKE. Big Momma punched me dead in the face so I ran into the room where she had to chase me and get some more licks in. She grabbed me by the hair and beat my head on the wall till Robin pulled her off of me which to me seemed like days. Being older I realized the reason she kept my hair long was to be able to grab my hair and proceed to fuck me up. There was another time when my cousins decided to set me up cause I was like a show for them to watch when big momma beat me the shit out of me they would watch and laugh. Anyways we had some issues with our neighbors upstairs from us. We all decided to turn their lights off, wrong fucking mistake. Neighbors came out said they was calling the police blah blah. Of course I got blamed for that big momma knocked me into next week I fell to the floor she went to town kicked me in the face, back, stomach. Fredricka was at the house and grabbed her told her to stop she helped me up and Bigmomma told me to jump in the shower and goto bed. Man let me tell you these stories aint shit.
Mental abuse I have one story that haunts me, even today this hurts me. I grew up with out a mom or dad. One of my moms bf took the roll of dad for me. This man will always be my daddy in my eyes I have nothing but the upmost respect for this man. He did everything in his power to make me happy. Keep in mind I was brain washed my whole life by racism abuse mental and physical. I dont remember much on this incident but I remember what hurts me. MY dad came over to visit like always, big momma and him got into it over something and he left. She ran in the room saying she would beat me if I didnt run and ask him for money for something and if he said no I had to say what she told me to say. So I did it of course cause I was scared of course, I ran outside he said no I cant. So I told him I hated him and he didnt love me. I never had a chance to apologize for that. So I am sorry dad and I know I havent been by to visit but I will promise.
Growing up I always thought big momma was my mother. Hell I was calling her mom and NO ONE in the family ever corrected me. I found out in 89 that she was just my grandmother and not my mom. I found out my mom was killed by her exbf. Once that happen all kinds of stuff came out in the open. I had another brother WTF my dad was not my dad WTF. The fucked up thing is knowing your mom is dead and you have no father cause no one knows who the fuck he was. Mom had to keep her lifestyle a secret due to all the racism in this so called family. Let me tell you this besides my brothers the only member of this fucked up family I talk to is my auntie Ginger. Thats sad considering there was 7 fucking children big momma had.
The KKK and AB. Now you know this This how fucked up this family is. I felt like I was raised in the slavery days considering thats all Joe and I ever heard growing up. N this N that shit I started using it to describe all of my people. I was raised to believe I was white, cowboy boots and hats. Yes I rocked it and looked good doing it. Thats not the point I never knew anything about my other culture. Only that we was bad and deserved to be beaten on a daily basis. Yes I have never dated any sisters but its not because I am a racist its just that the ones I did would never think twice about some little confused black kid dressed and acting like he is white. Yeah Joe I know you having a field day with this.
I think I am done for now. I hope everyone likes this and enjoys our stories. Thank you for inspiring me to keep going with the blogs, you know who you are....... LIL Brother story
Severe abuse is a sore subject with me but my story needs to be told someday. One thing I can take growing up was a ass whooping. You know people talk about how bad that ass whoopin was they got and all i can think of is how I was beaten. People say belts, sticks, shoes etc. The only thing I can say is damn you had it easy. One time I had a dog that was made to attack me when I was being to much of a kid. The dogs name was chip, I remember one time I was made to go and grab his dog food. The one thing you never do is grab chips dog food. I said no but you know that shit did not fly. So I went and cried cried as I reached over to brab the dog food. The worst part was not knowing where the fuck the dog was under the bed. I could hear that damn dog growl and you could hear the tone get deeper and deeper the closer I got to the bowl. I touched the bowl and out came a 45 pound dog chopping at the mouth slobber just flowing out his mouth. I tried to move fast enough but he got my ear and took a huge chunk out of my ear. Blood flowing from my ear and the skin falling off. Being only 10 years old that shit was crazy but not out of the ordinary. You wanna hear the fucked up part my grandmother or so called grandmother laughed her ass off because it was funny.
I remember I could never figure out why I studdard so bad when I was a child until I sit back and think damn she use to beat the shit out of my head. This one time we was over this ladies house named Robin suppose to be my auntie ha. Big Momma (grandmother) was looking for some of her movies and fighting with her daughter over what movies was hers and what not. Being the sweet young attractive little boy I was decided I would help and say this was not her movie, WRONG MISTAKE. Big Momma punched me dead in the face so I ran into the room where she had to chase me and get some more licks in. She grabbed me by the hair and beat my head on the wall till Robin pulled her off of me which to me seemed like days. Being older I realized the reason she kept my hair long was to be able to grab my hair and proceed to fuck me up. There was another time when my cousins decided to set me up cause I was like a show for them to watch when big momma beat me the shit out of me they would watch and laugh. Anyways we had some issues with our neighbors upstairs from us. We all decided to turn their lights off, wrong fucking mistake. Neighbors came out said they was calling the police blah blah. Of course I got blamed for that big momma knocked me into next week I fell to the floor she went to town kicked me in the face, back, stomach. Fredricka was at the house and grabbed her told her to stop she helped me up and Bigmomma told me to jump in the shower and goto bed. Man let me tell you these stories aint shit.
Mental abuse I have one story that haunts me, even today this hurts me. I grew up with out a mom or dad. One of my moms bf took the roll of dad for me. This man will always be my daddy in my eyes I have nothing but the upmost respect for this man. He did everything in his power to make me happy. Keep in mind I was brain washed my whole life by racism abuse mental and physical. I dont remember much on this incident but I remember what hurts me. MY dad came over to visit like always, big momma and him got into it over something and he left. She ran in the room saying she would beat me if I didnt run and ask him for money for something and if he said no I had to say what she told me to say. So I did it of course cause I was scared of course, I ran outside he said no I cant. So I told him I hated him and he didnt love me. I never had a chance to apologize for that. So I am sorry dad and I know I havent been by to visit but I will promise.
Growing up I always thought big momma was my mother. Hell I was calling her mom and NO ONE in the family ever corrected me. I found out in 89 that she was just my grandmother and not my mom. I found out my mom was killed by her exbf. Once that happen all kinds of stuff came out in the open. I had another brother WTF my dad was not my dad WTF. The fucked up thing is knowing your mom is dead and you have no father cause no one knows who the fuck he was. Mom had to keep her lifestyle a secret due to all the racism in this so called family. Let me tell you this besides my brothers the only member of this fucked up family I talk to is my auntie Ginger. Thats sad considering there was 7 fucking children big momma had.
The KKK and AB. Now you know this This how fucked up this family is. I felt like I was raised in the slavery days considering thats all Joe and I ever heard growing up. N this N that shit I started using it to describe all of my people. I was raised to believe I was white, cowboy boots and hats. Yes I rocked it and looked good doing it. Thats not the point I never knew anything about my other culture. Only that we was bad and deserved to be beaten on a daily basis. Yes I have never dated any sisters but its not because I am a racist its just that the ones I did would never think twice about some little confused black kid dressed and acting like he is white. Yeah Joe I know you having a field day with this.
I think I am done for now. I hope everyone likes this and enjoys our stories. Thank you for inspiring me to keep going with the blogs, you know who you are....... LIL Brother story
17 April 2011
He Ain't Heavy. He's An A@@hole!
You can love without being around. Sometimes it is best.
I have and will continue to tell you experiences, thoughts, and memories of my two brothers. This paints the illusion that I grew up without a brother...well, for the most part, I might as well have. But there was another member of the Sneed household. His name was Willie and for legal purposes, he was my brother.
I have ZERO good memories about Willie. He was quite a bit older than me. He left home while I was rather young and soon joined the navy.
My childhood with him consisted of broken promises and lousy outtings. It became a running joke between my cousins and I about Willie's promises. He promised to take me places on a regular basis. I can probably count on one hand how many times he came through. His absence and his disregard for spending time with me was not the worst thing. It wasn't even his inappropriate sexual encounters with his girlfriend of the month.
You see, I left home quickly. If you've ready any of my other post, you'll know that "running" is an understatement. Still over the last 15 years or so, I have managed to stop in at home 3 or 4 times. Once, I stopped in at my grandmother's house. Willie was there. I was trying to talk about a few things that bothered me. He asked me if I needed any money. Lord knows I did, but at the time I was more concerned about my mental state and my future.
I don't think I answered him. He asked again. I said "sure." He gives me $20-$30, followed by "I really don't have it to give." I gave it back to him and said "I don't need it." My grandmother (and if I'm not mistaken, my aunt) started giving me a hard time for not taking it. I pointed out how Willie always makes a production out of his "generous" nature and left.
This became Willie's schtick. He always gave and offered, but EVERYONE was aware. It wasn't that I was embarassed to take help. I just hate show-boating jack-asses. Offer money in front of others, complain about how "little" he has (though he was supporting several children, own several vehicles, building homes, taking trips), and await praise from others.
Once, my mom (Mrs Sneed) sent me to stay with Willie and his girlfriend. She had a daughter who was about 10 or so; a fat brat who ran amuck. They all wanted me to watch her while they were at work. This girl wreaked havok; screaming, setting things on fire, kicking the door. I had no clue what to do with her. The girl friend blamed me for not being able to control her, though I was only a few years older than her. Willie sided with her without even really listening to me. I hated it.
As much as Willie offered me, he never really "gave" me anything of value. He has continued to lie, be stingy, and selfish. Everytime I gave him the benefit of the doubt, he showed me that my forgiveness was misdirected. He has proven that he will never change.
Perhaps that is why I was so desperate to have a specific relationship with Joseph and Scott. Maybe I thought they would replace the broken piece of the family I was placed in.
I have and will continue to tell you experiences, thoughts, and memories of my two brothers. This paints the illusion that I grew up without a brother...well, for the most part, I might as well have. But there was another member of the Sneed household. His name was Willie and for legal purposes, he was my brother.
I have ZERO good memories about Willie. He was quite a bit older than me. He left home while I was rather young and soon joined the navy.
My childhood with him consisted of broken promises and lousy outtings. It became a running joke between my cousins and I about Willie's promises. He promised to take me places on a regular basis. I can probably count on one hand how many times he came through. His absence and his disregard for spending time with me was not the worst thing. It wasn't even his inappropriate sexual encounters with his girlfriend of the month.
You see, I left home quickly. If you've ready any of my other post, you'll know that "running" is an understatement. Still over the last 15 years or so, I have managed to stop in at home 3 or 4 times. Once, I stopped in at my grandmother's house. Willie was there. I was trying to talk about a few things that bothered me. He asked me if I needed any money. Lord knows I did, but at the time I was more concerned about my mental state and my future.
I don't think I answered him. He asked again. I said "sure." He gives me $20-$30, followed by "I really don't have it to give." I gave it back to him and said "I don't need it." My grandmother (and if I'm not mistaken, my aunt) started giving me a hard time for not taking it. I pointed out how Willie always makes a production out of his "generous" nature and left.
This became Willie's schtick. He always gave and offered, but EVERYONE was aware. It wasn't that I was embarassed to take help. I just hate show-boating jack-asses. Offer money in front of others, complain about how "little" he has (though he was supporting several children, own several vehicles, building homes, taking trips), and await praise from others.
Once, my mom (Mrs Sneed) sent me to stay with Willie and his girlfriend. She had a daughter who was about 10 or so; a fat brat who ran amuck. They all wanted me to watch her while they were at work. This girl wreaked havok; screaming, setting things on fire, kicking the door. I had no clue what to do with her. The girl friend blamed me for not being able to control her, though I was only a few years older than her. Willie sided with her without even really listening to me. I hated it.
As much as Willie offered me, he never really "gave" me anything of value. He has continued to lie, be stingy, and selfish. Everytime I gave him the benefit of the doubt, he showed me that my forgiveness was misdirected. He has proven that he will never change.
Perhaps that is why I was so desperate to have a specific relationship with Joseph and Scott. Maybe I thought they would replace the broken piece of the family I was placed in.
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