18.1.10

Strange "thinks" aka part 5

As I have been writing down memories of childhood,  I am forced to admit I am missing years . I have been aware for many years that I do not remember anything about the years of 23-26. But going back further, I can see long periods of time that I have no recollection of at all. I don't know if it is from disassociation or just supressed. Then there are other times that I recall but that don't seem real at all, sort of pushed by the wayside. One of those is when I married a psychopath/wifebeater/bordeline personality putz. I must have been at a very low point then. But I barely recall that 10 year span, I guess that is a good thing. Two things I remember are when he fragmented my nose. You have mostly cartilage in your nose, but at the very top is a little bone that protrudes slightly , that is what he fragmented, he broke it in 5 pieces, oh well, I always wanted a nose job anyway, and since I worked in a hospital, our insurance covered 80% because it wasn't considered cosmetic, then the plastic surgeon said if I would do it at the primary hospital he worked at, he would give me even more of a discount( you usually get a "proffessional courtesy" discount). I had no problem with that and ended up with a 3800.00 nose job for 83.00!!! That was pretty cool. The second thing that I very clearly remember is  lying on the floor of the kitchen and him beating my head on the floor. He was using my hair to pound my head, and he was pulling out tons of hair. When I swept it up later it filled a shopping bag, of course if it had been compacted in there it wouldn't look like so much. I used to have very thick hair, even tho it is baby fine. Now it's about half as thick. I supported this jerk for the entire 10 years we were married..he would get a job and it might last the day. He did have one job that lasted a year, but he got fired and the excuse was that he had lied about his criminal record. Well that is neither here nor there, but once I decided that I would no longer support him, it pretty  much went downhill from there ( major sarcastic tone). I did two things for him that he should be very grateful for, I got him  enough information that he was able to get his Marine Corps discharge changed from dishonorable to general, which meant that he could go to school and collect money on the G. I. Bill.  Since he already knew how to weld, he took welding classes to get a certification and the government paid for it. Of course he decided that isn't what he wanted to do. He decided that he wanted to be a truck driver like his dad. I was checking out different programs that the state offered. One is a rehabilitation program that anyone in the state could use. They had a truck driving program and then they let you use their truck to take the diving test in.The fact that he already knew how to drive a truck( his dad taught him when he was a kid)made the program a piece of cake. He finally got a job driving cross country and also picked up a girl whose father owned a truck stop in New Mexico. I should look her up and send her a thank you note, she is welcome to him and all his b.s.
This lack of memory goes back pretty far, I remember  the first school that I went to, but all I remember is that we had little cots to "nap" on, so that we didn't have to sleep  on the floor, and that there was a fireplace in the room. Thats all I remember about the 1st year.I have one vague memory of the 3rd grade, neither here nor there, I remember the 4th  grade because the teacher was a cool guy, even if he did believe in corporal punishments.  His name was Mr. Morita and he was from Hawaii. We learned a whole lot about Hawaii, he even told us about the bombing of Pearl Harbor because he lived there and was 7 years old at the time. That is pretty detailed memory.I don't remember grades 5,6,or most of 7th. 8th I remember because that was the very first time I went to the same school for the whole year. High school I vaguely remember, but it's pretty fuzzy. I remember the day JFK got shot, I was at school and heard  a radio talking about him getting shot, it must have just happened. So I went into my next class and told everyone that the president had been shot. I was a class clown type so people didn't believe me, until about 2 minutes later when the announcement came over the P.A. It really  kind of annoys me to not have clear memories of growing up, since I can remember earlier things so well.Not enough to go back to therapy tho :o)  !

7 comments:

Gardenia said...

Oh my - I cringed while reading that. You are lucky you are alive. Shock and trauma do weird things to our brains - so small wonder you have trouble remembering. I often wonder what is normal concerning childhood memories because I too have big blanks. My youngest does too - I have a feeling its from some sort of abuse and our inborn mechanisms to protect ourselves - I urged my daughter to take the journery of discovery but she doesn't want to - if she was happy I would say forget it, but she still battles a lot of depression and has been in some very bad relationships as well.
This writing must be a great catharsis - and, at least a great nose came out of it - but what a hard way to go...

Furtheron said...

I've had a very good life fortunately... I'm never grateful enough for that. My Mum and Dad were great people, I see that now and my life has been very good all in.

I have some impressive "gaps" as well... esp in the later years of my drinking I struggle to remember what happened at all. I have a pretty clear memory from 2004 to now... funny that isn't it? :-)

Four Dinners said...

Nobody should ever say "I know how you feel" because nobody but you will ever know how you feel.

My mother shoved a lighted match down the end of my dick in the bath once.

Abuse is bad but there is light.

You break the 'chain' and never inflict on others what was inflicted on you.

Then the chain is broken.

Then, and only then, you are healed

We're healed babe.

Even if we sometimes don't know it inside.

Love n hugs

4D xxxx

Cheesy said...

What we learn with pleasure we never forget.
Alfred Mercier

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