07
May
09

Q AND A time….(a LONG post)

Well, since I woke up in pain I figured I would write my first question and answer blog. I am STILL taking suggestions, so if there is something you want me to write about, just comment and tell me! The first question/suggestion was from my dear friend Butterfly (read her blog, it’s intense and awesome). She said:

Hi V,

If you’re taking requests, I would love to hear more about how you came to be you. What you used to do for a living, how you met your ex-wife, how you came to have a child, how you met D, all that. :-)

Butterfly

How I came to be me. Well, the story of my birth…how I came to be is that my “Dad” (the abuser) married my mother when they were both 19 years old. From what my Mama tells me and what other people have told me, he was a cheater from the beginning. Mama stayed and stayed, she put up with his cheating for years…then one day she was working (She was an ER nurse) and she met a beautiful man that  had moved to Louisville from Athens Greece just a few months before…he was enchanted with my Mama, he begged her to see him and finally she gave in. She tells me she honestly fell in love with this man Dimitri…she told me she felt no guilt being with him after all “Dad”‘ did, but this wasn’t a one night stand like “Dad”, it was true love. She ended up pregnant and she told my “Dad”. He begged and pleaded with her to stay, he apologized and Mama gave in to him–she stayed. He swore to her he would raise this child as his own. Mama believed him. This baby was born January 24–that baby was me.

Even though she had promised “Dad” she wouldn’t see my Papa again, she couldn’t stay away from him. So the times he was gone on business Mama and I stayed with Papa at his apartment and as I grew and grew Papa loved me more and more. I remember his love, his warmth, his smell…the way he would hug me…kiss me, the way he would say my name in that thick greek accent. I was happy when I was with him. I felt safe from “Dad” the one who promised to raise me as his own, only he didn’t love me, he was abusing me from the time I was a baby. When I was with my Papa, in his apartment, in his arms I was safe. I was safe from “Dad”, safe from the world. My Papa loved me.

When I was almost 5 years old my Papa got sick, he was diagnosed with brain cancer. I remember my Mama crying when she found out. I remember going to spend more and more time with him–I also remember watching my beloved Papa waste away……….

I remember crawling up in his hospital bed, not long before he died. “Dad” had beaten me pretty bad–I was so sore. Papa noticed–he couldn’t speak, he was too weak, but I saw in his eyes, he knew, he knew. I could see the pain…the anger. He was mad at “Dad” for hurting me, and he was mad at himself for having to leave me..

Ok this is hard, I have to take a break, crying too much…

*SIGH* Ok. Let me get through this part…I knew if Papa were healthy and strong he would have grabbed me up at that moment and taken me away from the abuse, from “Dad” and protect me and love me with everything in his body. Unfortunately he died a few days later, with me and my Mama at his side when he took his last breath……..For awhile, I was mad at my Papa, for leaving me, leaving me alone with “Dad”. I was scared, I missed my Papa, I missed the love, the unconditional love, the safety. My abuse only got worse–and my state of mind went to hell when “Dad” took my puppy that Papa gave me from me, my Frisky. That was the only thing left I had of my Papa and he took it. Anyhow, my abuse got worse, I got angrier. I started cutting myself when I was young, I remember when I was 6 thinking of what I could do to die…how I could kill myself and be with my Papa. I took a bottle of aspirin. The only thing I got for that was puking and a horrible ringing in my ears for days. I drank drain cleaner and ended up in the hospital for a couple of weeks…I kept living no matter what I did, so the cutting started to feel alive, to release the anger.

I was also being abused by a neighborhood “Christian” man who would tell me as he fucked my 6 year old body that GOD told him to do it. The abuse from this neighborhood man didn’t go on everyday, but at least once a week, I remember trying to tell “Dad” saying “Daddy, this man is hurting my butt.” What did “Dad” do? He told me to shut the fuck up and quit trying to get attention. So I had NO safe place to go. I was abused by this “Christian” bastard and by my “Dad” who was suppose to protect me. The abuse from “The Man” went on until I was almost 12. I was also passed around by my “Dad” as a child whore to his pedophile friends. I was a fuck toy to so many people. My life was filled with sex and tortures…

As I grew the abuse from “Dad” got worse and I grew into a teenager, it turned into a sick obsession. He thought he was my “lover” *shudder*. My suicide attempts and cutting got worse. I was holding in so much rage, so much hate. In my freshman year of high school, I had a teacher that obviously didn’t like me for some reason and grabbed my arm, jerking me out of my desk. Wrong move–I evidently let out some of my rage on her and hit her…knocking her a few feet back. I don’t remember it, my best friend Kev was in the class with me and told me what happened. The only thing I remembered was being in the principal’s office, with my Mama and the cops there. They ended up putting me in a psych hospital for a year. At first, it was great–I was away from the asshole who was hurting me, I felt safe. I was still clammed up and wouldn’t tell any of the therapists about my abuse. “Don’t scream, don’t tell” , “Dad’s” mantra I was made to repeat kept going through my head, I couldn’t tell. One day one of the therapists I really liked came into my room, he told me he understood, he knew I just wanted to be loved. I cried, thinking he really understood. He started to touch me–my face..my arms, my legs, my cock. *SIGH* I wanted love so bad I let him do things to me. I let myself think he loved me. Many nights he would come to my room and do things to me, get me to do things to him. He made me think he cared. I was a stupid teenager, who was so abused, so angry, so needy and vulnerable and he took advantage of me. He molested me just like “Dad”, he used me. I told him I loved him–did he tell me he loved me back? No. He told me I couldn’t have him and to stay away from him. He broke my fucking heart and made me feel even more victimized. Another person to abuse me. I knew then I had a neon “Abuse Me It’s OK” sign over my head….

When I got out of the hospital, I met Kelli. She was so sweet and nice and she broke through my shyness. Kelli, Kevin and I started doing everything together. We were the best of friends—then I started having feelings for her, love feelings and she was feeling the same way. We started doing some things alone–getting closer, loving each other. One day, we decided to “do it”, both of us virgins..(I do NOT consider being molested taking my virginity). We parked my truck in a secluded place one day after school and we made love for the first time….and I got her pregnant that day *SIGH*. When she told me, I wanted to do the right thing, I loved her. So we told our parents, of course they were shocked, her Dad hated me for getting her pregnant, but we finally got them to sign papers so we could get married. We got married got our own little apartment. We would go to school during the day, then Kevin would drive her home while I went to work. Kelli and I were young, but we were happy and mature for our ages and we both wanted our baby. I remember being in awe thinking that a life we created was growing inside of her. In her fourth month, I came home from work and she didn’t greet me as usual at the door. I called out for her–nothing. I went into the bedroom and saw her lying on our bed, blood all over. She had miscarried and hemorrhaged, she was dead. I screamed and grabbed her, tried to “wake her up”, I prayed, I begged….*SIGH* I called the paramedics and sat in the floor by the bed, with her blood all over me, holding her limp hand until they got there. I lost my child and my Kelli…the first person to really love me was gone.

At her funeral, I was devastated…then her father came to me and told me it was MY fault she was dead, if I had kept my “dick in my pants” she would be alive. I felt even WORSE and after the funeral I was sitting in Mama and “Dad’s” house, he was in the living room with me, I cried and said “I just want to die…I can’t take this”…what was “Dad’s” reaction? He said “If I get the gun, you promise to do it….” If he would have gotten that gun out at that time I would have blown his fucking brains out then killed myself!!!!

A few months after Kelli died, I met Jennifer. She was sweet and nice, she pursued me, I said no many times, but she was persistant. Finally I agreed and we went out. I know now I was rebounding from Kelli, from the pain, so I think I thought Jen was nicer than she really was. Long story short, I ended up marrying her when we turned 18, not long after our graduation. Kevin begged me not to marry her, he had bad feelings about her. I didn’t listen and went through with it. On our wedding night, a night when you should be making love, laughing and making plans for the future, I was alone and she left me to go out with her friends. It never ended. Jennifer turned into the devil’s daughter. She was verbally and physically abusive to me. She caused me to have stitches many times by hitting me with things. She cheated on me–she was just cruel. She said mean things to me…let’s just say things she did to me were horrible. We had sex a total of 4 times during our 7 year marriage. We had been married for almost 2 years when I got tired of being monogamous to someone who was fucking anything with two legs. I played a gig with my band one night and this girl who was like a groupie of mine flirted with me, I said to her—“Wanna fuck?”. She of course said yes, I took her outside to my truck, and that is all it was, a simple fuck. A few weeks later she’s at the club telling me she’s pregnant. GOOD GOD. But me being an upstanding guy, I told her I would be with her through out the pregnancy, I would, of course, help her with our child. I had to tell Jen what was going on, her reaction? “As long as I don’t have to touch it you can play Daddy all you want.” , fucking cold bitch.

On August 30th my daughter was born. I was in delivery as she was born…my Melody, I was in love. The nurses went to hand Mel to her and M (Mel’s Mom, not going to put her full name) said “I don’t want it, I am not ready to be a Mom, I don’t want it.” IT?!?!?! How can you call a child IT? So at 20 years old I became a single father….I left Jen a few years later (she never helped with Mel anyhow) and it was just me and my baby girl…we were happy, except for “Dad” obsessing and still abusing me *SIGH*….

I was working my way up in my company (software company). I started working there when I was 15 and stayed. I worked my way up from gopher, to sales, to network administrator to finally a VP!! I was so fucking proud of myself. I was making good money, I had a nice home, a beautiful daughter. The only thing was, I was a heroin addict and STILL being abused by my “Dad”.

I started doing heroin when I was 15 to kill my pain….Now don’t judge me and say I was a horrible father for doing heroin. Yes, I was an addict, but my child NEVER saw me do it, she NEVER did without ever! My Mama would keep Mel on the weekends and I would binge and binge, heroin and as much alcohol as my body could stand.

Sometimes I would go on 2 and 3 day binges–no one would know where I was–Kevin would come find me somewhere in Louisville or up in Indiana in drug houses, fucked up out of my mind. I wanted to kill all my pain, from all my abuse. The abuse from “Dad” that was still going on. The abuse I could tell NO ONE about. When my divorce from Jen was final, I really kinda went crazy. I had what I call my “whore” days. I was living a totally gay lifestyle, men only. I would go to gay clubs, fuck in the ‘back rooms”, no names, no staying over, no regrets. I just wanted to be high and fuck without emotions. I had an AIDS scare after about 3 years of the circuit lifestyle and that stopped the “whore days”.

I met Jaysin…a wonderful guy and lived with him for 2 years. He loved me, I loved him. Unfortunately fate wasn’t on our side and we weren’t meant to be together forever. He got offered a job in Dallas, TX, an offer he couldn’t refuse. He begged me to go with him, but I couldn’t leave my GOOD job, uproot my child, leave my Mama…so we split amicably with many tears. He still checks on me every now and again. 🙂

So again, I was alone….I went through a few boyfriends and girlfriends then met Carol. She told me I was the love of her life, she left her shitty husband for me…we lived together 8 years. I got off heroin when we moved in together, my life was turning around, then I got those three fucking words that would change my life forever. “You have cancer.”

I think Carol thought I was going to die (well they told my family I had 6 weeks when they found the leukemia) so she stayed….through the heavy chemo to kill off everything in my body, the bone marrow transplant, the months in the hospital, the pneumonia, the staph infections….*SIGH* I told her she could leave, it would be ok and I would understand, but she said she loved me and wasn’t going to leave me….

I went into remission, then about 6 months later it was back–she stayed but it was never the same. She would only touch me if she had been drinking, made me feel like I was shit. Like I was unattractive, like I was a big nothing, but still, I stayed. She promised to take care of me until I died. Yeah right, she took care of me by cheating on me numerous times, until I couldn’t take anymore and I left her to move back to Kentucky with my family……

I swore I would never fall in love with anyone again, not seriously. I was sick, I was fighting terminal leukemia, rounds of chemo and radiation. Then they found the 2 small growing cancerous brain tumors. My Papa’s tumors? I don’t know, but it was more chemo and more radiation and more fucking meds. I felt ugly, shitty, unattractive, unloveable…then on that day in May, I met D on deviantart, we got married on August 9th 2006, the anniversary of my Papa’s death, he was there, he wanted us to marry on that day. I felt it and I know it…he was there with us.

The rest is history I guess. I am still here fighting after they gave me 4-6 months to live years ago. My body IS slowly shutting down, I am on home hemodialysis three days a week because I am in kidney failure, my gastro system is slowly shutting  down…I’ve had tumors removed from my kidney, my throat….It sucks, but I am fighter…and I am stubborn.

I just found out one of the tumors in my head is growing again, my seizures are getting really bad again…so next monday I start radiation YET AGAIN, 5 days a week, 35 rounds. I get to be fried to a crisp again….They wanted me to do chemo but I have refused. No more chemo. If the tumor doesn’t respond to the radiation, then I guess it will just grow until it or the leukemia finally takes me out. NO MORE CHEMO!

I am loved and I love. I am abused, I am sick, but I am here and I am glad for that.

WOW, this ended up being long, but hey you asked how I came to be. I could have made it even longer and got into more detail, but enough is enough. 😉

Thanks Butterfly! I hope this is insightful….not too boring! haha

As I said, if you have something you want me to blog about, just put it in a comment!

I’m out to try to sleep again!

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7 Responses to “Q AND A time….(a LONG post)”


  1. 1 scythe
    May 7, 2009 at 4:02 pm

    Yes. You are loved. By me. You’ll never know how much. I was born for you… do you know this? Do you know how much I love you? Do you?

  2. 2 cleverem
    May 7, 2009 at 7:43 pm

    I cried reading this. My God, all you’ve been through. You are a fighter, a survivor and a real warrior. You love and are loved. You have more strength than anyone I know. I am glad I have gotten to know you. You help me have perspective, and gratitude for each day. xo

  3. 3 butterflysblog
    May 8, 2009 at 12:17 am

    You know what struck me as I was reading this? How many people have fallen in love with you in your life!! You speak about yourself as though you have nothing good about yourself, and yet every time you’re single (and sometimes when you’re not technically single), someone falls for you! You know what this tells me? There is a lot of greatness to you, V, and it is evident in your beautiful writing, and it is obviously evident to everyone who knows you. I am grateful to know you.

  4. May 8, 2009 at 8:53 pm

    Wow, V. Thank you so much for sharing all that. Words are failing me now. All I can say is that you are a beautiful person, strong, brave, and inspiring beyond belief.

    Thank you SO much for sharing yourself like this, and thank you SO much for your inspiring words. You not only give of yourself (after having so much taken), but you encourage and (here’s that word again) inspire others.

    I owe you some personal thanks, and that’s coming. ;=) Be well and be strong.

  5. 5 jonnieangel
    May 9, 2009 at 10:29 am

    V, you are my hero. Seriously.

    My one goal in life is to leave this world a better place…you know? Just to make a difference. You’ve done that and you should be proud. I’m happy that you have D, you two were meant for each other! And you deserve to have somebody love you as much as she does.

    Much love and hugs!

  6. May 25, 2009 at 10:45 pm

    It is incomprehensible to me that anyone could have endured what you’ve endured, and still retained such a pure core self. It’s astonishing. Your wife and your daughter are very lucky.

  7. June 1, 2009 at 12:26 am

    Hello sweet V,

    I am so overwhelmed with your courage, strength of spirit, and utter humanity.

    Good and healing thoughts to you.

    We love you.

    Kate


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