I sit here watching Scott Stapp’s, Committing Slow Suicide, wondering how I ended up the way I did. If there is one thing, more than mom’s denial, which would make me doubt my childhood memories, I think the way I turned out would be it.
Upon visiting my therapist with whom I did the best with, she was amazed that I was not into drugs, alcohol, or prostitution/promiscuous relationships. I was honest with her, telling her about my promiscuity in high school. At the time of seeing her, I was still relatively young (early 20s), and my mom’s scaring words of my promiscuity in high school still stung my heart. I hadn’t really gone to any bars, not even to play pool, at this age. I didn’t know anyone who did drugs, and was never around people who did them, that I know of. I also was always in charge of my sister’s care, so the opportunity to run away was non-existent. From what I have learned thus far, most young women who are in prostitution were runaways. Since I took my responsibility of caring for my sister so damn serious, I never bolted. I seriously don’t think it has anything to do with fear of the ‘big outdoors’, as I really don’t remember having too much fear of anything by the time I hit high school. So, for whatever reason or reasons, I never did the things other abused persons did. I seriously don’t think the fact that I never did any of these coping behaviors makes me any better, or stronger, than any other person who has been abused, or of that matter, any body else period. It is just with the statistics which all scientists have to deal with, I don’t fit in. At the time of my therapy, this was odd, not so much now; I don’t fit into a lot of statistics.
Back to the video’s meaning to me. The beginning of the video shows a boy who is getting beat for not brushing his teeth in the strict amount of time given, and quite possibly for other things as well. As a man he indulges into alcohol and drugs, and he is shown in the emergency room, dying. In another part of the video, it is graphic as to his dependence and need for drugs. To me, it is rather scary watching this man crawl across a littered floor, stuffing pills in his mouth. In one video it is evident, at least in my interpretation, from where this man came from, the challenges and pain he has had as a man, then the down right bottom of scrounging pills off the floor. In fact, for me, this video is one of the hardest videos I have ever seen to watch, and I am of the MTV dawn.
As my own adult, I still don’t have the desires of drugs, alcohol, and sex (well, a little bit of sex, who am I kidding?). The point I think I am seeing here is that somehow I managed to take some side road around all these coping behaviors that many others didn’t see or didn’t take. I still have some of the coping behaviors I had when the abuse actually occurred; I struggle with those all the time, or simply say ‘fuck it’ and close the door. I zone out really good in sex. I blow off relationships real well. There are big issues of safety, hyperawareness, and preparing for the worst all the time. In these I have the knowledge that all the abuse was real, not imagined as mom would have me believe. This is also where my therapist would work from, instead of finding ways it didn’t happen.
I ask, now that I have seen, as well as one can, the life of another who has been abused: why do I not fit into the statistics? What makes me so damn special? If drugs and/or alcohol were made more available to me while growing up, would I have indulged? Oh so many fucking questions! Who the hell is going to answer them anyway? Please don’t even tell me God, Jesus, angels, Buddha, or any thing of the like. They haven’t talked to me all these fucking years, AND I HAVE BEEN LISTENING AND ASKING, don’t bother me now.
I just see people like Scott Stapp being able to reach so many people who can really benefit from what he has learned. His words can fall on so many ears, which may at the time, be closed. His music can reach into their hearts, letting in a little light. In short, people who have come out the other end of all the shit of an abusive childhood and developed a means of sharing their life, are very special people. I have no doubt somewhere along the line I have told a person or written something which has helped one or two people. I have never, nor will I ever, reach the amount of people someone like Scott Stapp can reach. Thus the question of most importance to me, which is the question which shall never be answered in this lifetime: Why the hell did I not suffer these same, if not more, behaviors? Why did I take the side road? Did no one else see the sign? Seriously!
Perhaps, now that I have thrashed all that out, I may see a reason to this entire mind numbing diatribe. The people who go through so much as a result of their abusive childhoods may simply be stronger than me. If I would have been faced with drugs, alcohol, sex, whatever, would I have come out and be able to even help one person? Probably not: I am just not made out of the same strong stuff.
I applaud all those who have come out of life’s shit standing up. Even more impressive and awe inspiring though, is those who are turning all their pain and life challenges into a message for those in need, now or in the future. I am sure these great people who have suffered so, once, twice, and probably many more times in life, will be helping people heal, love, and live way after they are gone. I guess it is the forging of steel from where their strength pours.