Living with a Auntie

Sorry it took so long to write another one but I had to dig kinda deep and remember. You know its kinda hard when you dont want to remember what happen in your past. When I was really young my grandmother and I had to move from dallas to Irving. Being the rebel that I was I did not want to leave my school, I really had no choice but go to John Haley Elementary. I really hated this school, new kids and teachers. I was always picked on when I was little for numerous reasons. The number one reason was I had a severe stuttering problem from alll the abuse I think growing up. So naturally kids made fun of me which really pissed me off. They also made fun of me cause of the clothes I had to wear. My hair style was another issue. WHen I tell you the kids had a field day with me. There was absolutely nothing they could not make fun of me for. If I opened my mouth I could not speak without someone making comments. I have a strong feeling this is the reason I am nervous when speaking in large groups is because I do catch myself going back to my old ways of not speaking correctly. If you pay attention closely I do still stutter. Reasons unknown to me and the numerous doctors I have seen for this problem, but I think I know why is the kicking of the skull and beatings I use to get. Anyways back to the story I did EVERYTHING in my power to create so much drama in my class to my teachers and class mates. So a solution was to move in with this lady who I thought was my Aunt (Ann Delatore) so I could go back to my old school.


 You talk about excited man I packed my shit so fast I could not see straight. Man was this a mistake and one of those memories I blocked for a very long time. Living with this lady and her husband was a nightmare not only was I abused by my grandmother I was by here also. When I moved in I was so happy thinking things would be so different. I started school and things just went downhill.  I would come home from school and have to eat roach invested food and goto my room which was in the attic. She was a nasty person and a pack rat. Her husband would be so mean to me (John) and treat me like I was trash.  I would be ignored and never had any attention. I started this thinking I could make this a story but I have blocked it so long its hard to remember everything she had done to me.  I will speak of one last topic of her and end this story.


 The day chris came to visit us we all meet at Ann's house for like a reunion. We had fun hanging out with my new brother and Joe. The food was nasty of course Roach something. I know you remember this Chris. Anyways we spent the day over there just chillin. The only thing I remember after that was when she called my grandmother and swore up and down those ni99er kids stole something at her house and she never wanted us back there again. I have never respected her or John since. The ass whoopin I recieved from that was incredible. I watch alot of stand up comedy shows (black) and they always making fun of those ass whoopins we get when nothing comes out after awhile. Around this time I stopped crying and just took the whoopins, let me tell you it just pissed her off more. So I had to start faking like it hurt. I wish our mom was alive and we never had to go through the things we did. I know deep down inside she would have NEVER done this to us or let anyone have done this to us.

Thank You for taking the time to read our blogs

Locked up Abroad

 I have these memories of being a child and I pray that it never happen to me or any other child in the world. You know people find the things we say sad and what not. I think I have been mentally screwed for life and will never be the same. I know I could never do the same to my kids or anyones elses kids what I have been through. I think the thought of doing it would tramatize me to a melt down. Just sitting here talking about it kills me inside but brings me closer to a realization that hey this shit actually happen to you. It scares the child that is still inside me till this day. I look at myself and see that frighten little boy who wet the bed from terror and studdord so bad he was so scared to talk because people made fun of him. You know its not only my grandmother who tortured me it was everyone who ever made fun of me when I was a child. They never realized that I was fucked up as a child.


You know for me when life gets hard I like to open that little closet and shove shit in there and shut the door. Shit for me that routine worked for years and years. I just would run and hide from all my issues including talking about my past. Most of my stories I would tell I can not due to the fact I just dont remember.


I want to talk about suicide. In all my years of drama and abuse I have never thought about suicide until January of this year. I wanted to do something stupid to myself and was really close to doing something but never did. You know this lifestyle I was raised in did take a toll on me and choices I have made in my life. Life is tough when you really have no one who cares for you when you are down. I dont look for no sympathy from anyone I just am telling you phases in my life so please do not think Im crazy or need some help.


 I remember this one time I was locked in my room for the summer. There was a pad locked placed on my door so I would never come out when she stepped out. HAHA I remember only being allowed to eat once a day back then. I remember when I could sneak out I would grab anything I could to try and make bombs or what ever invention I could make.You know right before I was locked up I had to do the most craziest thing and that was take all and I mean ALL my toys out to the trash and throw them in the trash. When I came in the house I was oput under pad and key. Prison I have been to prison at a young age. I was thrown in the hole as they say in prison. I was disturbed young kid with no friends no mom, dad, no brothers no family. WHY? I can never answer that question. Was it cause I am black? Was she mad at my Mom?

You know I was asked one time what is love to you Scott? Love to me is what you would never do to someone who you care about.

This makes no sense to me. I hope it does to you.

 So lately I have been thinking about alot of things. Mainly about this blog and the effect it has on you followers and myself included. I want to start off by saying thank you to this special someone in my life that has made me understand what this blog will do for myself and for everyone who reads this. Growing up the way I did and I can only speak for myself on this topic.


 Deep down inside I hurt alot. I want something that everyone outside the beaty life has in one form or another. I have been alone my whole life. I have never had that mother figure in my life that would ever just come and comfort me when needed. I feel like I look for that in my relationships with women. I am 32 and it seems like I have been disappointed by every women who have ever crossed my path. No I am not looking for a mother those days are gone and can never be replaced. My worst fears in life is being alone again. Some of this may make sense to you and it may not make sense at all but I know what I mean.

 There is times where I feel like I am locked up in a closet with no where to turn to. No family no life and sitting back I really do not have that. Yes I know you say you have your brothers. I am missing something else. What it is I couldnt tell you, my heart says its my Mom. Really though if I never knew or had one to raise me how could it be that. I am confused in my life I know what I want and I feel like its to late for that type of life anymore. I am a lost man who never had a family or a mom to look over and give me what I need which is support.

I am going to publish this to see if this makes sense and maybe someone can tell me what they think.

Test

Spotting A Beaty Boy

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.

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.

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.

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

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.