Don't Exist. Live!

The road is long.

I came out of an incredibly abused family.

My dad used to beat the shit out of my mom, shock me with live electricity cables, burn cigarettes on my body, beat me to hospital (at the age of 6, due to my frequent visits, I knew all the nurses names), he sexually molested my sister,  left us locked in a room for days without food or water, tied us up to chairs and fucked my mom up to a oozing pulp in front of us...

On my seventh birthday while hammering galvanised iron nails into my mom’s legs insanely demanding to know who the fictitious character he created was my mom was cheating with, my 6 month old brother started crying in a room adjacent to the one he was using. My sister and I were cowering in the passage and when he passed us, he flicked me a look as if to say “you’re next pal”. He proceeded into the room and I ran to the kitchen. I grabbed a knife, stormed back to the room as her flung my kid bro against the wall screaming “Shut up you cunt!”

I ran up to him, summoned all the inner energy I could muster and tried stabbing him like they did in an old Columbo episode I saw. The little butter knife instead stopped at his bulletproof crocodile scaled skin and as my hand slid forward, sliced through my fingers. He picked me up and repeatedly punched me in the face with his huge rock-like fists.

A little blessing came from all this though – via my distraction, my mom, with nails in her legs and a broken arm, managed to climb out of the tiny room window, crawl to the road and flag down a passing patrolling police car.

She thought she was saved, but the cop happened to be a buddy of his. While they were chatting, my mom grabbed my sister and baby bro, snuck out through the back door and ran for her life. I was too scared and in pain to move. A few weeks later, she came to collect me (he choked me when I couldn’t guess where my mom was and the neighbours found my body in the backyard) and we ran off together.

We lived off the help of strangers (whose faces I remember but names I don’t recall) and often camped on empty cold beaches, the grumbling of our stomachs singing us to sleep.

This is where we met my step father a couple of years later. I thought we were saved from that horrible forgettable life.

Instead, as the years passed by, the new guy abused us even further. He performed horrendous sexual activities with my kid sister (I only discovered this later. She told me about an incident where he bought cream doughnuts for her, ejaculated all over it and made her eat it in front of him).

I had several little jobs, like cleaning neighbours gardens, mowing lawns, et al – so I could buy stationery or little treats from my bro and sis, but my step dad would claim the money and buy alcohol from it.

He slept around, verbally abused my mother – ripping her spirit to shreds – and beat us with rubber canes, locally called and aptly named Sjamboks.

I left home at 17 or 18 (my sister left at 15).

My mom eventually did leave him and met a great guy. He was a proud Zulu man with strong cultural beliefs. He was also HIV positive. It was difficult for them and in the end, near his death – my mom found peace and acceptance in this guy. I didn’t know him very well, but she speaks of him without hurt in her eyes.

Over the years, I tried hiding in drugs and drowning in alcohol. I travelled far and wide - Friendless and penniless, always miles away from happiness and a home. I prayed and prayed, tried cutting deals, begging, pleading with The Creator for one little blessing. My hope shattered, my faith  torn to shreds, walking with all my meagre possessions down dark roads as the cold skeletal fingers of winters embraced my bones.

I promised myself that one day, should I have a family of my own, I would never ever ever have them endure the nightmares I face, the inner demons I battle... the dark passenger I carry.

My kid brother turned out to be a flippen cool guy and I'm SO proud of him. Married an awesome gal and is on his way to living happily ever after. My sister unfortunately still battles her demons.

I met someone wonderful later in life. Her father too abused her mom. She had a daughter from a bad relationship with a dodgy local actor. I was terrified of the kid, but when I met her – she immediately made her self comfortable in my heart. We had 2 other kids together.

I found a decent job, we found a good place, she found her dream job ...and we didn’t live happily ever after.

I still had my dark passenger.

Trying so hard not to be like the 2 fellas who raised me, I became like them. I shouted at my someone wonderful. I became stubborn. I fought countless condemning battles within that I didn’t deserve this home. This wasn’t my life. I wasn’t meant to be blessed. Happiness wasn’t mine to hold.

And when I eventually did win the battle for my soul and kill the demon of Anger within, the dark passenger - (by learning to Forgive, by learning to be myself, by learning to accept the Peace only God could give) it was too late.

I don’t blame her for cheating on me. It sucks yes, but it's her life. I don’t blame her for wanting to start a new life without me. I have my kids and they love me and I them. I can’t imagine how my dad and step dad could abuse us as kids. Mine are so fragile, so timid, so freaking beautiful – I freaking cry just looking at them playing happily together or at night sleeping huddled in front of the TV. They are my angels . My second chance at life. There’s an expression that comes to mind that makes no sense to me: “I love you so much, I would die for you” - - WHAT A LOAD OF CRAP! I love my kids so much, I will live for them! And through them. And one day when they are older and venture into the world on their own, I will always be there to help them when they fall or cheer them on when they kick life’s ass... because surviving is stupid. We came here to conquer!

I wish I knew then what I know now. If I did, I wouldn’t have wasted 30 years of my life fighting this internal war which could have so easily been won. I hope you don’t waste your life with meaningless nothingness. Hope is real. Patience is a good friend. And when life throws you punches, don’t roll with it. That just delays the inevitable: you will be beat. Instead, FIGHT BACK! That’s how winning is done!

...and next time you go outside, look up at the sky. Realise how big it is. As massive as it is, it can’t even hold a tiny portion of how enormous the Universe is... The Almighty is even Bigger than that! He Loves you and He is on your side. Let Him lead you to where you’re supposed to be. Find your Peace and be Free.

The road is yours.

Take it!