Due time for life.

As I write this posting, thoughts of my past are heavy in my mind. Today is my baby brother's 35th birthday. It almost seems surreal.

35 years of a connection.
35 years of life.
35 years of happiness and pain.
35 years of searching.

I've observed my siblings for some odd 30 years and it is a reflection of life.

A reflected pattern that emerged from 3 generations of family abuse. Family neglect. Family torture.

My siblings and I were never "sexually" abused or exploited, our abuse was the good kind.

This abuse was and is the kind that never left a mark on the outside.

No external welts.

No external scars.

Nothing concrete to the naked eye.


This abuse is the kind that doesn't rear it's ugly head until you are older, a little wiser, and hopefully, a little stronger from the bullshit of your reality.

This "abuse/neglect" was never purposefully inflicted, it was just a combination of our own parents upbringing, my Father's drinking, and the feeling of self worthlessness on the part of both of our parents.

I don't think parents or children realize the impact of childhood. That is until it is too late. How does one make up for, or better yet, rationalize the effects of inadequacy inflicted on youthful souls? I know our upbringing fucked up a huge portion of all of our lives. Our lives are a direct result of our environments. I am not knocking my parents, they did the best they knew. They tried, sometimes succeeded, but mostly, failed. Failure in the aspect of continuity. Nothing was ever concrete. Nothing was ever finished. Everything was always a work in progress.

In the process of my growing for these odd 40 years many "instances" have entered my life. Most of these "instances" have been self inflicted. Most of them have involved people I care about. Always they have involved those I love.

The crazy thing about this "abuse" is it is never ending. It always "pays itself forward". It is like a mutated virus that continues to grow even after it has been isolated. This mutation feeds off of both my personal success and failures. It never wants to leave and it always has to be fed. Either by negative or positive energy. The key to my own happiness is to try and strangle and starve this mutation by kindness. It is truly a continuous, daily struggle to bury and at the same time, grow and accept my past.

In prison, I got a lot of time to reflect. Neither good nor bad. Time didn't and doesn't stand still. I, actually, made peace with a lot of demons from my past. My father didn't mean to be a drunk. He had no choice. He had a choice in some things in his life, but as usual with life, it careened out of his control. He reached a point where nothing or no one could rescue him. He did what any man does. He tried, the alcohol won, and he died.

No glory. No drama. Just life.

My mother went the other way. She tried to achieve. She did achieve. She made her decision as a mother to live for her children. She did the best she knew and could do, and moved forward. Never stagnating, but always, just trying to stay ahead of the game.

No glory. No drama. Again, just life.

In my life, I have always searched for an answer as to why I am the way I am. The typical "why me" syndrome. Again. No sane person does this. It is wise to ask questions regarding your life, but then to get the answers, and ignore them? That was my problem. The ignorance card I played for so long kept getting me into trouble. NO MORE. I accept my past, embrace it actually, and have learned a few of the lessons from my fore-mothers and fathers.

NO glory. NO drama-anymore. Just life.

"That which doesn't kill us, makes us stronger"
--BULLSHIT!--
It just really makes you crazier!!!

Back to my siblings. All of them have made a conscious effort to procreate. Yes, the cycle continues. But, much to my delight, each of them has made forward progress in their parenting. Thus shattering my "myth" and gloom of history repeating itself. Each of my nieces and nephews have a glow and mystery to them. Each of them infused with our past sins and glories. Each one a new branch on a very old tree. Our job, as their link to the past, is to let them grow with the love and support we never felt we received.

So with this happy thought, I wish my baby brother another 35 years. May it only take him 35 years to figure out what it has taken me 40 plus!

Happy Birthday little one. You will always be "bear". I love you.