Defining Myself – Emotionally

As I’ve already discussed My physical self-image, I think I should move on to My emotional state. It’s a bit more complex than I usually care to admit, but who isn’t that true for. Everything has done something to ‘damage’ Me and mold Me into what I am now. So, why don’t W/we take it all the way back to the beginning.

My early formitive years were spent with a step-father I didn’t care much for and then later with a biological father I spent a good number of years trying not to secretly hate. Trying and failing, but that comes later. Next was the early school years, where I spent most of My time as the awkward outcast. No real surprise there.

Middle school was much of the same at first. The change was one I care to forget, and for the most part that’s not hard. Gang life was harsh, even in the small/medium sized town I lived in at the time. The violence. The drug use. To this day I don’t think My family ever noticed the changes, but it was the pain and loss I experienced then that had more of an effect on Me than anything else I can remember.

The hole I was in was dark, dank, and consuming Me. By the age of 15 I was pretty close to self-destruction. I spent what time I could manage at one of the notorious gay bars in Orlando that had a habit of not carding or not caring about fakes. Salvation came in the form of My first taste of BDSM. She’s the only woman I’ve ever called Mistress and truly meant it.

I honestly think She saved My life that night, as the guy I was drinking with was later charged with murder in a missing person’s case. She took Me under her arm that night, and despite nothing sexual ever happening, it was one of the more fulfilling times of My life. I was made a houseboy. I was taught discipline. Self-respect. Inner strength. All lessons I cling to still. And then it ended, as she moved several states north.

Now high school was an improvement. I was still an outcast but now with several friends that made things a bit easier. Mind you, none of them lasted long after school, but at the time I could count them as friends. After a few years I could manage a relationship again after the setbacks suffered earlier and the vast improvements thanks to Her. Several early relationships floundered, but near the end I met someone online that I truly cared for. That’s not the case now, but I’ll get to that.

That person was My now ex-wife. Married at 19, divorced by 21. The first clues it wouldn’t last were their, as what was said rarely translated to what was done. I still tried though, and not long before I was to ship to Ft. Knox for boot camp W/we discovered she was pregnant. I took responsibility, hence the marriage coming so soon, and everything was taken care of while I was away.

Boot camp was another formitive period as I was cut off from most of My support structure for 8 long months. I spent so much time in boot camp because of illness and injury, and them just plain losing track of Me. Go Army! 😐 Anyways, around the time My first son was born I had a breakdown. It wasn’t a cry for help, as I’ve always enjoyed pain, but more of a release. I cut Myself with a razor and was caught in the act. Being put in an orange vest on L.O.S. [Line Of Sight] was probably the best thing for Me.

I managed to make friends with several of the other ‘flight risks’ as well as J. Cooke, someone I’ve still yet to find since leaving Ft. Knox in 2001. That’s something entirely different though, so let Me get back to what I was saying. Eventually I convinced them I wanted to train so I could move on and get home, and I ended up screwing up My knee. After another couple months the Dr. I had been seeing for My pneumonia took pity on Me and gave Me a clean bill of health so I could be sent home.

There was a distance between the ex-wife and I now. I was more or less forced to sleep on the floor so the baby wouldn’t wake up in the middle of the night, which widened that rift to the point I wandered. For a month or so I played around with a co-worker, even getting an appartment with her, because I felt things were irrevocably broken. W/we tried to mend things after I realized how bad for Me this girl was, but secretly I knew things couldn’t be fixed.

After that it was a bitter divorce that I’ve never financially recovered from despite not having much to begin with and several failed attempts to manage a decent relationship that I found who has to be the most wonderful babygirl. And now here W/we are, with all My baggage and twisted desires barely phasing her when I bring them up and three beautiful children to chip away at My remaining sanity.

Now, obviously I’ve left out a few details that are a bit too personal for Me to share just yet. Give Me time and they’ll be out in the open as well. Until then, Adieu.

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~ by Psycosis on 2008 12 04.

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