Many of my blog followers know a lot about me from the age of 14 to 24. I have only openly blogged for about five years now even though I have been journaling and writing in diaries since I was 14. That is when I moved to Boston MA to live with my only surviving sibling (Jordy) out of a sister and three brothers. That is when my brother Joey's two best friends moved from Sioux City to Boston to help my brother handle a rebelling me. That is where I found GOD. Prior to moving to Boston and leaving an abusive home there was very little religion in my world. In fact, I learned about GOD from a friend of my brother that sat with him every day for no less than an hour, reading the Bible with him and assuring him that when he died, GOD would accept him in heaven, even though he was a rotten kid.
I knew of GOD and I loved visiting neighborhood churches with my mom. We would sneak off during the day while my birth dad was at work. It was our secret and if he ever found out about that we both would surely feel the heavy hand of his fist on us. Through this friend that comforted my brother up until three days before he died, I met Kim, my Pooh. I have no idea why Aunt OJ felt Kim and I should know each other, but I have not regretted a single second of being a part of Kimberly Jeans life. But this is not about how Kim saved me from myself as she took me under her wing and changed my perspective on trusting people, giving them a chance. No, this is the story about the mess of a kid Kim took on before she even met him. This is the story about a faith that existed in a boy from the age of seven to fourteen. This is the story of a young man that is fighting the urge to go back to his fourteen year old ways.
You see, before I had Kim to hold onto I did not believe I had any value in life. I never felt I would ever be good enough for anyone to show me any kindness. My days were spent with my mom who would school me from home, but not because she wanted to, but because we could not let anyone find out what went on inside that house on Bushnell Ave in Sioux City IA. We could not take that chance that someone would find out that myself and my three older brothers were also the victims of the abuse our birth dad distributed to us. The heavy hand that touched us, the night visits from him that touched us, his words that destroyed any hope we had of ever being good enough in a world that he sheltered us from.
My nights were spent in my room being chased by monsters and demons that lurked in the shadows. Wishing my brothers would become hero's with capes that would come and save me. Hoping my mom would tell someone what went on in that house. The screams, the sounds of fists hitting flesh the crashes of things being thrown around. Waking up in the morning hoping today would be the day that you either broke free or died.
We told no one, and no one asked, so you assumed no one cared. You knew he was right when he said you were nothing and never would be. You hid anything that brought you any sense of happiness because you knew if he found it, it would be taken away. Taken away just like he took your self worth, your self pride, your sense of life. I would wonder why I was born if only to live like this. You wonder why your mom never got you out of it. You ask yourself what did you ever do to be so unloved.
I loved my mom even then. I felt sorry for her when I realized she too was just as physically, mentally and sexually abused as we were. I admired her for taking chances, letting me ride my bike up and down the street, skate boarding in the driveway, sneaking away with me during the day on walks to the library where we would read stories that took us away from the walls that bound us. But I wanted to admire her for more. I wanted her to help get me away from him, so what we snuck off to do would become a normal routine of getting out and having fun. Not having to worry about him coming home and finding out we were on the lose.
For almost six years I lived in a life of darkness and sadness before I asked my brother Joey to help me. To get me out of there. He slowly started spending time with me, taking me out at night with him and his friends. Showing me a city I was dark to, a city that I longed to be a part of. Then my caped hero got sick and with-in a year he would be dead, right where I always felt I wanted to be. Joey died and left me. I rebelled greatly at home.
Kim was the only person, until now, that I told the complete truth to. I was already in Boston, away from the monster and my mom when Aunt OJ connected me with Kim. I suppose OJ knew Kim liked to fix people. I don't know, maybe she just didn't want to deal with the life and death of another Pauling. I remember Kim asked me what made me leave that Bushnell home. "Tell me the truth", she said, "I won't tolerate any lies." So I told her my birth dad told me to take out the garbage and I was eating, and I was tired of his crap, and I told him, yeah when I get done eating. And that was the last time he ever laid a hand on me.
You know what? Kim didn't quit me. That night we talked for hours and I cried and she cried and from that point on, she decided I needed someone to love me. She decided I needed someone who would not leave me. Kim encouraged me to pursue my passion of writing. Kim made me feel it was OK to come from nothing and reach for everything. Kim helped me heal from the outside in. There were nights when I wanted to just shut down my computer and never talk to her again. The nagging, the lectures, the pushing.
Not one time did Kim ever make me feel like I could not succeed. Not once did Kim ever give me the impression that she was going to walk away from me. Once I realized I was stuck with this chick, well I gave into her control. When I would call her out on her controlling ways she would tell me "I'm not controlling you, I'm trying to get you to take control of you". She taught me how to fight back, to not lay down and let others walk on my dreams. The night terrors still exist, the shadows still chase me. The memories of the Bushnell house still haunt me. But as time goes on my once unattainable dreams are being met, even though the night terrors linger around.
I admit, I'm really pissed that Kim left me. I am also thankful that Kim never quit me. I think Kim taught us all that "WE ARE NOT QUITTERS" and for that reason alone, today I got out of bed and back into life. Back into life to pursue the dreams I shared with Kim. I also would like to share a lesson with all of you that helps me grow in my faith.
In this life you will cross paths with so many different people for so many different reasons. We may never figure out what exactly those reasons are but they are there. We may not like the way people come and go out of our lives but we need to think about what we would not have had we never met them. My brother Joey developed lung cancer. His best friend Mikey was friends with Jewels who is Catholic. Jewels saw Joey to the end of his life. I sat and listened to them reading the bible together. Through her sharing his story with Kim, her best friend, Jewels introduced me to Kim. I enjoyed a beautiful friendship with Kim. I found my Pooh, and I may never find another Pooh, but somehow, crossing paths with Kim will lead me to someone else who may be the Laurel to my Hardy.
That's what GOD does, so think about it, who is Pooh to your Piglet?
