Tell me your life story.

[DossarLX ODI]

Re: Tell me your life story.

I am curious if anyone else's mother fits this profile?

http://parrishmiller.com/narcissists.html

And I don't mean just one or two points, but like damn near all (like 22+)

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13 (Pervasive in my family)
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I've basically had to lie about my honest feelings or my family would go ballistic. It pisses me off my mother tries to act "loving" when she sounds like a whore and a witch if you mention something wrong she did.

Listening to my parents argue is horrendous. My dad calls my mom a cunt, my mom then calls my dad a grumpy old man with no friends, then my dad says all her friends suck up to her and are stupid, then she laughs like a witch, then my dad threatens to shove her head against the car door even though we were on the highway.

According to my parents, "love" is swearing at each other and justifying abuse with money. Then I hear them having sex since they are right next to my room, and they think that sex makes up for anger and irrationality. g fuckin' g.

[SethColeman]

Re: Tell me your life story.

According to my parents, "love" is swearing at each other and justifying abuse with money. Then I hear them having sex since they are right next to my room, and they think that sex makes up for anger and irrationality. g fuckin' g.

I can relate to this, on an extent. Although my stepdad's a cool guy, he and my mom would (and still do) argue over stuff like bills, spending money at the casino, and cleaning the kitchen (which I do mostly, lol.) Then very late on school nights when I'm trying to sleep I hear their bed creaking and shit and I'm like how can people argue like that with a person that makes your skin crawl and be in bed with them less than 3 hours later. Its the sex man.

THE SEX

[popsicle_3000]

Re: Tell me your life story.

candiate for best thread 2013

not sure if/what i should post

[25thhour]

Re: Tell me your life story.

Born in 1994 to a loving mom and dad in the shit-hole of Dawson Creek.

From when I was born to when I was about 6 years old I seldom remember seeing my father because he worked shift work trucking up in Alaska/Yukon and was always gone for days at a time; but the moments I did get to spend with him I cherished. My mother and my sister (2 years older than me) taught me how to be a good little boy, and since I was very willing to learn schoolwork even before I was in school my sister would teach me everything she learned when she got home. (Kinda all I remember from that young)

On July 8th, 2000 my world turned completely upside down...
I remember going for a bike ride on a warm summer's day excited for the upcoming drive from Tumbler Ridge to Dawson Creek (2 hours) which I finally would get to do for the first time with my Father. I remember him telling me before I went on my bike ride that he had to mow the lawns before we could go and to take a couple of rides around the block. So I did. About 20 minutes later as I am riding my bike back into the yard I notice a figure laying on the front lawn. I realize quickly it was my dad and I run over to him screaming "wake up dad, you can't sleep here" and I go inside to tell my mom that dad was sleeping on the lawn. She rushes outside and quickly calls our neighbors (The lady was a nurse) and 911. She then tells my sister and I to go over to our friend's place across the street. , where we wait for what seems like hours for the ambulance to come. (According to my mom it took 45 minutes). Next thing I remember is my mom picking us up from our friend's house, a tear in her eye, she grabs both of us tight and says "Dad didn't make it..." We all burst out in uncontrollable tears... I remember her telling us that the last thing my father said was that he wanted to ace school and go to university to have our dream jobs.

Months passed and my family grew further and further apart, the fighting became unbearable between us three, and deep inside my anger grew more and more intense. The fights between my sister and I got to a point where my sister had drilled into my young head that I was the reason that dad had died, I had wished him dead not even a month before, that I was literally a killer. This made me spiral into a deep depression for many years and when we moved to Dawson Creek in 2001 or 2002, I attempted suicide by tying something around my neck... My family knows nothing about that to this day.
I turned into a fit of anger, always breaking stuff beating my sister, hurting my mother, hurting my friends, hurting myself, I was literally out of control. I was so bad that I actually broke my mother's wrist...

More years passed the sucidial thoughts went away when I was about 14 or 15, and I started to calm down a bit. When I turned 16 my mother had a re-lapse of cervix cancer. For a while they thought it might spread but it miraculousy went away. This caused a lot of stress on my mom and it caused her to feel very very sick and she had to quit her job and attempt to raise us on even less than the minimum wage she was previously making. Times were stressful but I was figuring out what I wanted to do with my life so life was getting easier for me.


I graduated in 2012 near the top of my class, and got a 10 000 dollar scholarship from Encana to pursue one of my dream jobs, a petroleum engineer at the University of Calgary.

I am gay, as probably everyone knows... ahaha, Sooo, the summer after I gradded I was on a lame dating site and this guy messaged me saying he'll give me 750 bucks to take some risque shots of me in my underwear; I said yes (I mean a starving student would do anything for 750 bucks right?). So I did the shoot he flew me to Vancouver, bought me thousands of dollars worth of clothes, fixed my car for me, did literally everything but all I wanted was the money; yet he wanted me... And I had zero attraction towards him whatsoever. During all of this I met an older guy who I really loved, even though no one knew about my sexual orientation not even my closest friends. This relationship grew stronger and stronger until finally I told the other guy to fuck off, and that I didn't need his money anymore... Little did I know that he befriended all my friends and family on facebook and had saved all of those risque pictures of me. The next day I open my facebook and see that I had been tagged in like 30 pictures... My jaw hit the floor, there were pictures of me in.... yeah.... nothing.... all... over.... facebook.... for all my friends and family to see. The messages from my friends poured in and I denied being gay to every friend that asked, instead, I told them I did it for the money. The relationship with my older BF kept growing stronger untill about half way through my first semester of University I decided to come out to my immediate family... Oh boy, what a mistake. I called my mom and when I told her her response was: "What the fuck, are you fucking serious?? That's fucking disgusting, You're not my fucking son anymore you fucking worthless pig, get out of my life!!" she continued to belittle me untill I was so pissed I ended the phone call with "Fuck you, You were never a good mother to me, Do not speak to me ever again!!!". Weeks went by my mother had drained my joint bank account with her which held all my money for school tuition and books and left me with less than 3 grand to try and finish school with. I was crazy depressed and I couldn't even have my BF there because we lived 9 hours away, and then one evening I got a phone call from a blocked number, so I answered it... It was my mom, she was in tears saying how sorry she was and how much she loved me, and that she wanted me back as her son, no matter my sexual orientation. Man was I ever happy to have her back.

(TIME TO RUSH THE ENDING BECAUSE THIS IS TAKING TOO LONG AND ITS 2AM)

I ended up taking a year off of university to spend time with my family and my BF and to make money. I am working in a sawmill making crazy ass money and I am so excited to be going back to the University of Calgary in December.

The thought that drives my life is fulfilling my fathers final wish of graduating with honors and pursuing my dream career.

Holy crap that was long.

[MarioNintendo]

Re: Tell me your life story.

^ I literally, and I am not joking here, shed a tear. I wish you the best of luck, man.

Btw guys, this thread really helped me with my "as-of-lately" lacking self-esteem. I wanted to thank you all for that.

[EzExZeRo7497]

Re: Tell me your life story.

Just read through all of the stories here.

...This is by far the best thread I've ever read.

[top]

Re: Tell me your life story.

...This is by far the best thread I've ever read.

can you tell me why?

[DotKritic]

Re: Tell me your life story.

June 1988: Born in Sarasota, FL
Fall 1995: Moved to League City, TX because my dad got a job with NASA
1996-98: Karate. Finished with a 2nd degree purple belt
1998-2000: Cub Scouts/Boy Scouts (No I did not become an Eagle Scout)
Fall 2001-Spring 2006: Played baseball. Played half of the 2005 Spring ball with a pinched nerve in my lower back and most of the 2006 Spring ball with excruciating knee pain from catching
May 2002: The only person in my class to leave middle school [for high school] to stay in band for all three years
June 2004: Changed high schools because I was passing only 2-3 of my classes in my first two years in high school
June 2004: First job. Putt Putt Fun House
July 2004: Move to Seabrook, TX
February 2006: Second job. AMF Bowling
May 2006: Graduated on time
August 2006-Present: In and out of San Jacinto College. I'm now on hiatus because my fiancee and I are moving in together and she'll be 4 weeks pregnant on Monday
June 2007-July 11: Third job. Space Center Houston
August 2011-September 2012: Forth job. Kemah Boardwalk
September 2012-March 2013: Fifth job. Super Target
April-May 2013: Sixth job. Academy Sports + Outdoors
June 2013: Seventh (and current) job. Springhill Suites by Marriott
July 2013: Get into relationship with co-worker. She gets pregnant. I'm going to be a dad in April/May 2014. (See August 2006-Present)

[25thhour]

Re: Tell me your life story.

^ I literally, and I am not joking here, shed a tear. I wish you the best of luck, man.

Btw guys, this thread really helped me with my "as-of-lately" lacking self-esteem. I wanted to thank you all for that.

Life is great now. Everyone has tough times.

[eastsideman09]

Re: Tell me your life story.

I'm very open about this kind of stuff. In fact, if you've read the Depression/Anxiety thread in TGB, then some of this may look familiar to you. My close friends all know about my story, and the closest were there with me along the way. Having shared it as many times as I have, I can recite it pretty easily, and what's great about it is that it's always changing. I'm 22, and a college graduate. I'm not only at the start of the rest of my life, but I've got a lot to show for. Textually, I feel like dividing up my life's notable events into the different levels of schooling would be easiest, so without further ado, here's what I have to say about myself.

Elementary School

The most notable part of this section is my parents divorce, but that happened at the tail-end of Elementary school, 4th-5th grade, and there's a small handful of things I could talk about leading up to that. I've been a romantic all my life, as early as pre-school. I would bring my crush roses from my parents bushes, sweet talk her, and kiss her on the hand and cheek. She was my girlfriend until 2nd grade, when she decided she just wanted to be friends, which was cool with me because I was a 2nd grader. Also ending around that time was my being bullied for being a pudgy kid. That teetered out because I remained a nice kid to everyone else, and the little shit of a bully was moved to a different classroom. I believe I had a pretty "normal" childhood, overall.

In its aftermath, my parents would describe their divorce as the ‘worst in the history of the county’, and with respect to legal technicalities, jurisdiction, and the situation in general, I’m sure that statement holds true to this day. Emotionally, it certainly could have been worse – there was nothing really ‘traumatic’ about it. I think it came when I was at a good age too; I was still young and naïve, but also old enough to comprehend what was happening. Thankfully, there was no abuse of any sort on me or my brother’s behalf, but my mom felt neglected. She felt like she had to force my dad to want to be a part of the family, and they would frequently argue and scream at each other. It was scary at times, especially for a 4th grader (or in my brother’s case, a 2nd grader). They eventually separated. My dad wanted to keep the house, so mom got primary custody of us, but was forced to move out. We didn’t move far, kept it in my hometown. Dad would get us every other weekend, and every Wednesday, which always entailed a trip to a local skating rink and Hungry Howie’s Wacky Wednesday pizza deal. After about a year of that routine, the situation changed drastically.

At this point, 5th grade had started, and my mom had gotten a new boyfriend (who was a bit of a weirdo). One night, my mom got a phone call from someone, threatening her and saying that he was on his way over. We quickly packed for the night, and headed to a hotel. When we got there, mom told us she thought it had something to do with dad. The caller identified her as “Cindy”, and only my dad and his friends would call her that. I’m sure this is the night my mom decided she needed to move again, and soon enough we did. I didn’t tell my dad about it until the weekend before the move. The thought hadn’t occurred in my naïve little brain, and everything was happening so fast as well. We completely uprooted ourselves and hit the road, my mom, her boyfriend Michael, my brother Kyle and I. Our destination was Rhode Island, my mom’s birthplace, the only safe place she could think of. Interesting side note on this road trip: We found ourselves in New York City on the peculiar date of September 10, 2001. The plan was to explore the city, get a hotel, and visit the Twin Towers the next day, but mom decided against it, because she wasn’t comfortable getting a hotel in the city with all of our belongings out in the moving truck, so we made it to my grandmothers place that night and could not believe what almost happened to us the next morning. We weren’t there for more than a day though, because my grandmother didn’t like Michael, so she kicked him out, effectively kicking us out as well. We were hotel-hopping for a couple of weeks before we found an apartment complex in West Warwick, just outside of Providence. We quickly started school, and I just as quickly became the most popular kid in the classroom, being the interesting new kid from the south (although my brother had a much harder time adapting). School was fun, mostly because of how new and different everything was up north. Although I really missed being home, I was adjusting to the move nicely.

By the time winter rolled around, mom told us she needed to head back to Florida to finalize everything with the divorce and custody battle in court, so she left us in the care of Michael. As it turns out, while mom was on her way down to Florida, dad was on his way up to Rhode Island to pick us up. He showed up at our doorstep with the police one night, telling us to pack our toys and clothes; that he’s bringing us home. The tension of the situation was eased, not only because we were seeing our dad for the first time in months, but he also took us to dinner and to see Harry Potter that night. He withdrew us from school the next morning, and we were on our way back to Florida. School was a bit awkward at first, but it was nice to be back, albeit short-lived. My mom had my dad arrested for ‘kidnapping’ us, which left us with my uncle for a few nights. Dad wasn’t worried, because he had a kidnapping claim of his own. Apparently, a 90-day notice is supposed to be given to the other parent before moving the children out of state when custody is still in the works, and mom didn’t do that. This, in addition to a claim of mom legally ‘abandoning’ us in Rhode Island, had my dad feeling confident that he’d win the custody battle, but alas, he didn’t. We were back in Rhode Island before winter break ended. The divorce was over. We finished the school year in Rhode Island and spent the summer with dad. By summers end, I still wasn’t sure where I would be going. Mom gave in and decided to keep us in Florida. We wound up staying about a half an hour away from my hometown, living with Michael’s mother for a few months before moving into a house down the road. Meanwhile, I was starting...

Middle School

...a friendless loser. For the second year in a row, I entered a classroom not knowing anybody, away from my friends. It was much more difficult this time around. I'm not sure how elementary school's work elsewhere, but in northwest Florida, we were with virtually the same classroom K-5, so friend-groups had become relatively solidified, and I was outside of them. I also didn't have the "interesting kid from the south" thing going for me like in Rhode Island. I was just the fat, shy kid with no friends (at school anyway... I got along with the neighborhood kids, but they were all a year or more older than me, and not in my classes). That only really lasted a year though... Familiar faces started arising with each passing semester, and I slowly but surely started to make friends.

I was still a relatively shy person at this age. My confidence wasn't very high, mostly because I was self-conscious about my weight, and that certainly wasn't helped by Michael's verbal abuse. He would call me Fat Boy on a regular basis, and try to make it seem as though he was saying "Pat" Boy (we're Patriots fans, but that's bullshit). I had started to save up allowance and money earned from mowing yards, but Michael had a drug problem, and would steal my money. On the first instance (when I had the most money saved up), he went as far as to stage a break-in at our house. At the time, I thought it was legit, the cops were called, but nothing was reported as stolen, because I hadn't found my money to be gone until after the police left. I know it was Michael because years later, I'd caught him blatantly taking money out of my wallet in the mornings before school. My mom kicked him out for a month or two, but wound up taking him back because she felt as if she was the "only good thing in his life", and she obviously loved him, despite all this nonsense. Aside from being a shithead in general, he was a nuisance to live with. He has a number of sleeping disorders, including sleep apnea (obnoxious snoring), narcolepsy (falling asleep randomly), and he was a sleep-walker (often breaking things in his sleep).

My brother and I would stay with dad every other weekend. Most of the time, we just played video games with my dad's girlfriend's son Damien, who was my age. We had an up-and-down relationship at this age... It seemed to fluctuate as the relationship between our respective parents did, but he was basically a step-brother to me, and to this day, he's one of my best friends, even after our parents split up. Middle school was good for my relationship with my dad. He had gone through some counseling after my parents divorce, and was definitely better with Kyle and I. Probably my favorite past-time with my dad was playing board games with him, namely Scrabble and Chess. We were back and forth on Scrabble, and would always talk loads of shit before and after each game, but I couldn't win consistently at Chess. However, I distinctly remember him trashing the board immediately after I put him in checkmate for the first time; it was the cherry on top of an already sweet victory.

PS2, Academic Team, and a text-based MMO game called Oilfight fueled my nerdiness 8th grade year, in turn, fueling my introversion. At this point, romantic interaction with women was a mystery to me, but I wanted nothing more than a girlfriend. In hindsight, it really didn't help that everyone at this age seemed to have vastly different romantic "experiences", from not having your first kiss (e.g. me) to having sex with high school freshman. I remember having a crush on a new girl, but not acting on it until...

High School

... wherein I cued my inner-romantic and wrote her a poem. Turns out, she thought it was weird and creepy, and nothing but embarrassment came from the situation. On the bright side, I had finally found myself with a solid group of friends. What was really great about it is that we weren't easily "stereotyped". We got along with basically every other social group, and that continued throughout high school. But while friends came easy, girlfriends did not. I had a crush on a different girl freshman year. She was a part of our friend-group, and had eventually broken up with her boyfriend at the time. Everyone knew I liked her, and our friends were giving us both shit about it one day at lunch, before it started to piss her off. She stood up in front of everyone and announced to the table "I do not like Paul, and I will NEVER like Paul", and sat her ass back down. I quietly finished my lunch while the rest of the table laughed hysterically. I got a lot of shit from the group for that, but it was in a good way; a male bonding type of way. It's just one of those things. Romantic relationships were non-existent in high school for me though, but not out of a lack of trying. I would get stood up, plans would fall through, hell, I was even ditched in a movie once. What really plagued me was this fucking line: "I don't like you like that, you're more of a brother to me". as;lkdfjas;lkdfjas;ldkfj

I was on the freshman Academic Team, but eventually quit because the teacher who coached it was an ass. Junior and Senior year, I took Journalism, the class responsible for printing the school newspaper. I was also taking Web/Graphic design classes as my electives. I enjoyed all of these things -writing, designing, and intelligence- and they were important to me at the time. Junior year in Journalism, I met Seth, a hyper-extrovert. He's a funny guy, and likes to be the center of attention. We became friends over discussing college football in class, and he decided to take me under his wing, so to speak, and "break me out of my shell". He saw a lot of good in me, and thought I was hilarious (after all, I am both of those things), and he thought I needed to get out more. He would introduce me to partying and beer pong Senior year, and I've been a champ at both ever since. My shyness was virtually eliminated by the time I was a Senior.

The final step in my extroverted evolution came at Top Dawg, which is basically the high school pageant for the guys. Juniors and Seniors would dress up for whatever the theme was (our theme was Men in the Movies; I was Kevin James as Paul Blart: Mall Cop), perform a skit, submit baby pictures for a slideshow, and spit a pick-up line to one of the hot teachers on stage. Seth convinced me to sign up for it, and it was an absolute blast. In my skit, I serenaded one of the cheerleading captains, which was great because not only can I not sing, I was intentionally obnoxious with it. I sang Lovin' You and My Heart Will Go On, giving her a rose and a kiss on the hand. The crowd went nuts. I was also a part of my friend Chris's skit, in which we had a "White Boy Dance-Off", and choreographed a goofy ass routine. The teacher we said our pick up lines to had a nice butt, so mine went something like this: "Hey girl, you're lookin' pretty thick... Like peanut butter... And I jiggle like jelly, so what do you say we make a sandwich sometime?". Overall, my performance got me 2nd place, and I was more than happy with that. It was an incredibly fun experience.

On the homefront, Michael was as pathetic as ever. During my last two years of high school, he was unemployed, camped out on the living room couch all day. He still found it in him to put me down whenever possible; it's just a part of his alpha-male complex. There wasn't much he could really say to me though... I knew he was a loser, and I had a job of my own. I was the real man of the house, and he was intimidated. A month before graduation, my mom was finally fed up. She gave him a week to get a job or bring in some money. At the end of that week, I knew he hadn't done shit, so at the dinner table, I was thoroughly enjoying my spaghetti when he said "I don't really like the sauce, babe, maybe next time you should try the other kind". I thought to myself "Uhh, there won't be a 'next time' for you"... After dinner, I asked mom about it. She was asking for $350 from him for the week, and he was only able to muster up $70, but the "notion itself" was enough for her to let him stay. I told her that was bullshit and I that I was disappointed in her. She kicked him out the next day, and he's been out of our lives ever since. A few weeks later, I was a high school graduate of the class of 2009.

Community College

My plan had been the same for a while: Get a general AA at the local college and then transfer somewhere else; Having an AA requires at least one of the colleges I applied to in Florida to accept me (at least I'm pretty sure that's how it worked). Coming out of high school, I was a declared Graphic Design major. Having taken some web/graphic design classes over the years, and obtaining a couple of certifications, I thought it was a good choice. Psychology and English interested me as well, because they were my two favorite subjects and teachers senior year, but Graphic Design it was. Freshman year was pretty straightforward, chock full of gen. ed. requirements. Most of my close friends had gone to the local college as well, except for Seth, who got a full-ride scholarship to his dream-school, Alabama. During the school week, I would stay at my dad's, because he lived closer to the school. Our bonding time had shifted from board games to dinner-time TV and online poker. We would watch Star Trek, Jeopardy, and Seinfeld every day, and were on ESPN's free poker site whenever possible. It was nice.

My mom's best friend's husband had set her up with a guy named Steve, and this guy was actually normal! The only downside for her was that he lived in Atlanta. She would visit him for a weekend at least once a month, and while she was out of town, I would sometimes throw house parties. The first weekend she went to visit him was the first time I smoked weed. Being high is pretty cool, I can certainly understand why people do it. I had only done it a handful of times after that though... I would feel paranoid most of the time, and I didn't like that. It's not for me. The house parties continued, however, and they were by far the funnest parties I've ever been a part of. They never got too big or rowdy, and there was a very nice blend of people and personalities. For Spring Break 2010, my mom visited her dad in Texas with Steve. That week consisted of 7 straight days of partying. It was a great time for everyone. Honestly, I think my mom had known we'd been throwing parties while she was out of town, but she was alright with it, because when she came home, the house would always be clean. We eventually slipped up and missed a pile of puke and beer cans on the side of the house one time, effectively ending the era of the Eastman Parties, as they came to be known.

That summer, my brother started smoking weed as well, only he would do it on a regular basis. It was a drastic change for him; he was so against smoking of any sort, since he was first chair trumpet in band. In 2010, my brother was a Senior in high school, and as his drug use increased, his popularity decreased. This was also my sophomore year of college, where I started getting into pre-reqs and art classes. I soon came to find that Graphic Design wasn’t for me. I had a B average in all of my art classes, and that just isn’t good enough to make it as a Designer. I wasn’t enjoying it as much as I would have hoped either. As the semester progressed, a lot started to happen, enough to earn it's own section in this post.

2011

In actuality, the events of this horrendous stretch of life are prefaced in December of 2010. Between final projects/portfolios being due, and work, I was relatively busy and stressed. On top of that, I was looking for apartments/room mates for when I would be moving for school after transferring Spring semester. This all would have been manageable if it weren't for Seth. He had confided a lot in me over the years, and toward the end of Fall semester, he began to call me almost nightly for a bro-conversation. He wasn't handling college-life very well, claiming to not have any "real" friends out there. Sure, there were people he'd hang out and party with, but he said there wasn't a deep enough connection for him, which is understandable; not everyone adjusts easily. Eventually, he became dependent on our phone calls, which would have been fine with me, had they not gone on for hours into the night, every night. He took his dependence on me a step further, and started to expect and demand my time. It was draining, and I could not provide. I'd tried to let him down lightly, explaining that I had a lot of schoolwork to get done, but he was really persistent... He would go through what seemed to be manic-depressive sequences, where for two weeks he'd be fine, and the following two weeks he'd be really depressed and cynical. One night while I was leaving work, he sent me a text saying that he was staring a a bottle of muscle relaxers, contemplating suicide. I called him immediately and he was hysterical. After a few hours of conversation, I was able to talk him down, and it became more of a 'normal' conversation between the two of us. He said that he really just needed more interaction from me; I had recently been "blowing off" the conversations for work and school. I told him I would be available for bro-time later in the week after I had finished all my finals, but that wasn't good enough for him. He had called me every night leading up to the day I had designated, and I had to miss all of those calls because of work and school. The night before we planned on talking, he sent me a text saying "I did it, it's done", and I could only assume the worst. I checked his Facebook for anything out of the ordinary, and sure enough he had posted some odd things. I messaged whatever friends he had in Alabama that I could, and went to sleep. I didn't call him, I figured there wouldn't be much of a point since he'd already gone through with it. I felt as if there was nothing more I could really do at the time.

A friend of his got a hold of me the next day and told me he survived. He wanted to talk to me about everything, and I honestly didn't want to. I really couldn't handle him anymore, and I let him know how much stress he was causing me. It's one thing to be there for someone like I was, and it's another for someone to demand and expect you be there, ya know? He told me that I didn't need to worry about him anymore, that he's got plenty of real friends in Alabama that care about him. That royally pissed me off. I've seen him twice since this incident. Things certainly aren't the same, and I doubt they ever will be.

Amongst all that, my dad started complaining about a back pain. Multiple ER and chiropractic appointments yielded negative. By the time January rolls around, my dad is losing a lot of weight, his right leg is completely numb. He's finally admitted to the hospital, where upon finding an ultra rare fungal infection on his lower spine, they also found a cancerous lump in his lungs (he was a daily smoker for 30 years). He would be in the hospital for a while, so I would visit as often as school and work permitted. Things weren't going well for my brother either. A close friend of his committed suicide, he wasn't handling dad's situation well, his drug use was increasing, grades slipping, and his future was uncertain. He was applying to Florida State's music program, but hadn't heard from them yet.

One night in February, I had gotten off work early, and decided to go to the club with some of my friends. Mom was in Atlanta, so I left the house alone with Kyle and his buddies, who were all baked. I trusted everyone that was there, but while I was out, Kyle invited some more people over. As it turns out, once Kyle and everyone else was passed out, these other mother fuckers he invited over went to my room and stole my TV and PS3. I came home to find my stuff missing, and raged until everyone in the house was awake. It took a few weeks and some good police work, but I was eventually able to get my Playstation back, but they told me the TV was likely ditched in the woods, or sold. One of those shady fuckers is in prison now, because the others ratted him out. Part of his parole entails him to pay me back for the stolen merchandise, but I've yet to see a dime.

Around March was when I decided to start losing weight. I was upwards of 270 pounds, and started a very restrictive diet in conjunction with a fat burning pill. It worked, although it probably wasn't the best way to go about it. But as I decided to better care of my health, my dad's health was plummeting. He caught pneumonia and had a heart attack in the same week, putting him in critical condition in the ICU for a week, but he survived. He had continued to lose weight, and was eventually transferred to Tallahassee Memorial Hospital for more intensive care. I would still find time to visit him, but it was a lot less often now that he was over two hours away. He remained in the hospital into the summer, missing my brother's high school graduation. We brought him a recording of it in one of our trips. He was completely transformed at this point... Skin and bones, he looked like a Holocaust survivor. It was hard to make trips out there, but I know it meant a lot to him.

Early into summer, Kyle still hadn't heard from Florida State. He wasn't handling things very well at all. Around this time, Spice started getting really big in my town as well, and Kyle was certainly no stranger to that stuff. One afternoon, my mom interrupted my Facebooking to tell me about some strange behaviors my brother was exhibiting. His face was glazed over, he hadn’t been eating, and the night before, he was saying a lot of odd things, like “the cat is a demon”, “when I touch this chair, I am God”, “there’s a chip in my brain, and the aliens are coming for me”, and so on. Mom was planning on taking him to Steve's place in Atlanta, so he could get away and sober up. Moments later, Kyle comes into my room, explaining that the reason for his behavior was this pill he’d taken. What he showed us was a vitamin tablet. Mom expressed her concern for him, and he replied “Oh, you think I’m crazy? If I’m so crazy, then why don’t you Baker Act me?’, confidently leaning back on my bed, with a smug look on his face. If you’re not familiar with the Baker Act, it’s a mental health statute in Florida that allows involuntary incarceration of a person who’s deemed a threat to themselves or to someone else, which is subjected to the interpretation of a judge, a licensed mental health professional, or a police officer (meaning you can call 911 and request a “wellness check” for someone in crisis). The person is brought to a stabilization facility, and monitored for up to 72 hours, upon which a doctor will determine appropriate follow-up action. Two of Kyle’s friends had been Baker Acted (thanks to spice), so he was familiar with the process, and was daring us to do it.

He went off on a tangent. “Oh you think I’m crazy? Well, ya know, dad’s crazy too. That’s why you divorced him, right mom? That’s why he’s in the hospital right now.” Here is where I lost it. He knew good and well that our dad was dying of cancer. I started screaming at him, and he began to cry; “I’m sorry, I’m sorry”. “You’re not sorry’, I snapped, “You’re scared…”. “Oh, I guess you’re right”, he responds, shifting out of his hysterical tears into glazed apathy. Immediately after, he fell back onto my bed. His eyes were closed and twitching, as if he went into a REM state. Seconds later, he arose confused, having seemingly forgotten about the situation moments earlier. Mom told him to pack his bags, and to do it with the door open to keep him from sneaking out the window, which he’d frequently been doing. I wasn’t sure what to think, but got ready in case I needed to do something. After about an hour of stalling (e.g. rocking back and forth under his blankets, listening to trippy music), he started to pack, but he managed to get his door shut. By the time we noticed, he was making his way out the window with his bag. I ran to my car and chased him down the street, he didn’t get far. He stopped in the middle of the road, flicking me off. I told him to get in the car. “I’ll get in the car! I’ll get in the car… If you can keep a secret!”. He was screaming this at me, but I assured him I would keep the secret. He got in the car, and as I was turning it around he told me “The secret… it’s in my closet. The secret is…. That I love you,” he said anxiously, touching my arm with his cold hands. At this point, mom pulled up in her car, begging him to get in. He got out of my car reluctantly, while she got out to open the passenger door of her car. Approaching her car, he repeats “I’m not getting in the car”, the anger in his voice escalating. “I’m not getting in the fucking car!”, he shouts, shoving mom to the ground. I hear her scream, and my eyes flash white with rage. Next thing I know, I’ve got him tackled on the ground, and a neighbor that we blocked up in the middle of the road is pulling me off of him. He’s lying on the ground, reverting back to his REM state. While he was down, I called the police requesting back-up and restraint for him. Mom was concerned for his future, not wanting an arrest on his record to keep him from getting into college, but it needed to be done. Police responded within the minute. Upon searching his person, they found an empty bullet shell in his pocket, which he had kept from a firing range he was at with mom days earlier. However, when the officer asked about it, he said “Maybe it’s because I have a gun”, immediately resulting in handcuffs. He said the gun was in his closet –his secret perhaps? – but there was no such thing to be found. After more delusional drivel, the officers placed him in the back of an ambulance and brought him to the hospital for monitoring. Before heading to the hospital, we searched his room. In his suitcase for Atlanta, he had packed pants and sweaters (it’s the middle of summer in Florida, mind you), his work uniform, and his laptop, which upon opening we found an empty packet of bath salts, which we believed to explain this psychotic break.

We arrived at the hospital, and remained at his bed for upwards of six hours. A social worker was with us, observing his behavior. His psychotic antics continued, twice trying to convince the doctor that a cup a filled with water was his urine sample, before being threatened with a catheter. His demeanor was amorphous, shifting between normalcy and delusion on a whim. I was able to keep him in check and under control, trumping his delusions with reason while also keeping him calm and stable. The social worker said I was marvelous, that it takes years of training for people to do what I did naturally. This is ultimately what drove me to become a Psychology major... My prior interest in the subject, my declining interest in Graphic Design, my command of this situation in the hospital and how natural it felt, and perhaps the future need for an expert in the field for my family; it all added up.

My brother was sent to Tallahassee for evaluation and discharged three days later. Weeks later, he was Baker Acted again, this time resulting in a diagnosis of paranoid schizophrenia, and an extended stay in Tallahassee. Road trips to Tallahassee were becoming harder and harder, the hardest of which came on July 3rd, my dad's birthday. At this point, he's in hospice care, which, if you don't know, is where people are sent when nothing more can be done medically, to be as comfortable as possible before they die. I'm happy to have gotten to see him when I did that day, because within an hour of us returning home, he was gone. He was cremated, and we held funeral services within the week. I still have dreams about him to this day.

By the time summer was ending, I had everything situated to move into my new apartment. I'd be an hour away from home, and minutes away from the university. After everything that had happened in the previous six months, this move really felt like a fresh start for me. I was 60 pounds sexier, and there was no stress in my life, although my heart remained heavy for a little while.

University

I officially changed my major to Psychology upon transferring to the University of West Florida. I'd quit my job, so I had loads of time to focus on school, and there was marked improvement. My grades were never too good at the community college... I left with a GPA of 2.75ish, but it's not counted toward my "UWF" GPA, which was kickstarted at a 3.6 my first semester there, and improved with each passing semester. Psychology was a phenomenal major to study. Each class was incredibly interesting, and I loved all of my teachers.

Eventually during the Fall semester, I met a friend of a friend named Kari. I thought she was pretty cute, but outside of Facebook, there was no way for me to get anything going... Not 'til Spring semester anyway. We happened to cross paths twice a week in between classes, and I eventually asked her to lunch, and from there to dinner and a movie. The next date was on Valentine's Day, when I FINALLY got my first kiss. The following week was my room mate's birthday dinner, which I invited her to, and afterward asked her to be my girlfriend. Within a week of officially dating, we started having sex, and oh my god oh my god oh MY GOD SEX.

The relationship was great. She wasn't high maintenance, she was sweet, AND she played video games! There really wasn't anything bad about the relationship. The only 'issue' I thought we had was that I thought she was falling faster than I was, but I figured things would be fine... We had talked about it, and it didn't really seem to bother her, or so I thought. At around the four month period, she dropped the L-bomb, and I wasn't ready to say it. In hindsight, I think I did love her, but I wasn't in love with her, and I wanted to be at that point before I start to use that word. Things weren't the same after that point. My feelings were progressing nicely up until then, and after that, I felt as if I was 'expected' to catch up, and it just wasn't going for me. Furthermore, it brought to light some real issues in the relationship, mainly communication. She was very guarded, wouldn't easily speak her mind, and because of that, little things would turn into arguments. She would say things had been brewing in her "crock pot", and would blindside me with issues I didn't know we had. After six months, I broke up with her, and she was devastated. I still wanted to be friends with her, but I knew the only way that was going to happen is if we had some space for a while. That proved difficult however, as she had solidified herself into my group of friend (well, with my main group of girl friends anyway), so I would still see her on a regular basis.

This group of girls is a strange one, that's for sure. They called themselves the Slut Squad. If you were to ask them why, they'd say it's because they aren't actually sluts, so it's ironic. If you were to ask me why, I'd say it's because they're dumb, and that half of them are actually slutty as shit. Kari became Queen Slut after we broke up. I was the second person she had sex with when we dated, but that number increased exponentially in the year that we've been apart. She'd fucked a handful of my friends, including one of my room mates. I'm not mad at anyone for that though, but her promiscuity does upset me a bit, because it makes what we had feel less special. What really pissed me off is that Kari came between me and the next girl I was interested in. I had a thing for Heather, who was one of the non-slutty members of Slut Squad, for a while, before Kari. However, when me and Heather started hanging out more, and Kari found out I was interested in her, she took it upon herself to let Heather know that she would "fucking killer her" if anything happened with me, and that she would "fucking hate her" for it. I thought that was a gigantic load of bullshit, but nothing ever happened between me and Heather. Kari obviously wasn't over me, she was trying to fill the void that I left, but it wasn't working. I took a good six months for her to come to terms with things, and a solid year before she stopped banging people.

As of now, she has a boyfriend of two months, and they're already dropping L-bombs. I haven't had any real interactions with women since though. After going 21 years without sex, I thought I'd be alright, but this year long dry-spell has SUCKED. Obviously, I've never been one for random hook-ups or one-night-stands, but that may just be due to the fact that I've never really been in the position for something like that. That's fine with me though, but I certainly could use a girlfriend. I really miss the companionship.

I graduated college this Spring with a 3.83 GPA at UWF (overall, I believe it's closer to a 3.4). I'm taking a year off and getting work experience in Psychology, with the intent of attending grad school next Fall. As of now, I have a job as a Behavior Technician II, but I don't start until next weekend. Ideally, I'll get into a PhD program in-state next year. I would love to get into UF's Counseling Psych program. I think I'd also like to be in a committed relationship before I start school again, because I'm not sure if I'll have time to meet anyone or establish anything with the workload I'm sure to have, and PhD programs can take anywhere between 5-7 years to complete. I would absolutely hate to be alone at that age, because more than anything, I want to be a father and husband, and I can't imagine the dating world getting any easier as time progresses. But, as of...

Now

... I know good and well that anything can happen, and I feel like I'm in a great spot to tackle whatever life throws at me now. 2011 showed me what I'm capable of handling mentally and emotionally, I have a better idea of how to handle and what I want in a relationship, I have a job, and a four-year degree; I think I'm gonna be just fine.

[popsicle_3000]

Re: Tell me your life story.

I thought I'd be alright, but this year long dry-spell has SUCKED

i so know what you mean

[All_That_Chaz]

Re: Tell me your life story.

Born in 1984 in south jersey. Went to a private kindergarten. Got called a k*** by a fellow 6 year old. When I reached first grade in public school they gave my mother the choice of moving me ahead to second grade. She kept me back because I was slow developing physically and socially. Good decision, I guess.

My best friend at the time was my next door neighbor. We were inseparable, but he was two years older than me and went to a different school for reasons I wouldn't understand for about 5 years. When the weather was nice, we would explore the woods behind our houses. Once we made it clear through to the other side where a popular farmer's market was. Another time we found what we thought was the coolest clubhouse ever but was actually a den for heroin addicts. 6th grade was when I found out that he went to a different school because he was slow. It doesn't make a huge difference when you're a child but he stayed the same while I was growing up. Last I heard of him, he was still playing power rangers in his backyard in his 20s. He's 31 now. I haven't heard from him in years. I hope he's alright.

Elementary school was not fun. I got beat up at the bus stop on the first day. I don't remember why. I only once fought back. In 5th grade they circled around me and this kid's 1st grade brother walked up to me and punched me in the mouth. I took him down. I felt terrible. I hope he was alright. I never talked to him again. I had trouble making friends. I was terrible at sports and good at school. I played the violin, took karate, and played a lot of NES.

Middle school was pretty bad. Kids threw rocks at me when I walked home from the bus every day. My mother blamed me for the dents in our garage door, thinking I did it. I was too embarrassed to tell her the truth. I once fought back against a bully. In a class geography bee in 8th grade the teacher was giving me the stupid hard questions that I was getting used to hearing every year because it's the same set of questions that I don't know the answers to. I expressed my anger to my teacher who apparently didn't want me to win because literally the only questions I didn't know were the ones I was asked. I put my head down and refused to answer any more. A kid put a tissue on my desk, trolling me. I punched him in the mouth, chipping his tooth. I got suspended for that. Other than that I played a lot of SNES I guess.

High school wasn't a lot better. At least I was in classes with smarter people. I took some programming courses, honestly because I knew I was a dork and figured I was supposed to. I continued orchestra but my teacher from 6th grade had moved up to the high school and she wasn't a fan of me because I had a bad habit of plucking strings between songs. My high school had two orchestras. I got 4th chair first violin in the better orchestra when I auditioned in 8th grade with the previous teacher. I would never sit that high again in 4 years of high school, which was pretty insulting. I participated in other orchestras as well and made a few friends, none of which I really keep in touch with now. In fact, I don't keep in touch with anyone from high school. I had one good friend but we fell out of touch after freshman year of college. I mentioned that I had tried and enjoyed marijuana, and his military sensibilities didn't like that. We haven't really talked since. He was a weird guy. Very smart but he had this habit of turning every conversation into a joke that only he understood. He also never really talked about his problems. I didn't find out until a lot later that he didn't have the money for college which I found weird because his father was a millionaire - he just refused to help his son with college, which I find despicable.

During high school, I did find a place that made me happy - my summer camp. I went to a sleepaway arts and music camp from 1998 to 2002. Over the course of the years there I went from a shy weirdo to big man on campus that was considered the most talented actor, an accomplished musician, and a charismatic leader. I actually still visit the place on alumni days. They want me to help in the theater program next summer. I think I might. Maybe I'll run a D&D program too. It was here that I would have my first kiss ('99) and my first relationships. The first real (physical) relationship I had was in my final year in 2002. We dated for about 7 months after camp before it ended because I was going to college. It took a long time for me to get over her, like 4 years. I didn't date in college because of her. She would often call me for relationship advice with new boys. I hated her for that. We had a falling out in 2007 when she told me she was getting married. There was drama in 2006 that I couldn't let go of because well, Chaz Syndrome of I knew I was right and had to tell her that. She divorced that guy at some point and remarried to the guy she was with after me (and in 2006, I met him them, total meathead). I actually met up with her this year. She larps. Vampires or something. Was kind of weird. She has really short hair, like clippered. I hate it. She doesn't look like the girl I remember, which is expected since she was 16 when we dated (I was 17, pervs). That relationship was pretty formative, I guess. I learned what love was. I thought we were going to be together forever, yadda yadda yadda. There are journals full of this crap somewhere on the internet. If you find them, wow you're weird, creeper.

College was alright. I went to Northwestern University. I told my family I was going to go to a different school because of money. I could have taken a full ride to Rutgers or gone to the University of Rochester for an absurd $8k/year, but my father told me to go to the best school I got into and he'd to the rest. I'll always be grateful for that. I studied Economics. I was going to study computer science but I changed that major before I started in September because of an incident in high school. My computer science teacher did not enjoy me. After 9/11 happened in my junior year, I thought a lot about how we display our patriotism. I decided I didn't want to salute the flag anymore because it felt hollow and I wanted to show patriotism in a way that meant something. I never really decided how, but I still did love my country. I was returning a book to my computer science teacher one homeroom. He has the ROTC homeroom with all the little neo-nazis. He snapped at me to salute, and I shook my head no. He wrote me up for a little-used rule in the student handbook - Disobeying a direct order from a teacher. This is to give teachers authority to break up fights and defend themselves from belligerent students. It was put in the handbook after Columbine. First offense was two weeks suspension. I talked to the Vice Principal because this was ludicrous and unconstitutional. I ended up with a single day's detention. That teacher never got over that. He got his revenge, though. He gave me a final project that he knew was impossible and watched me bang my head against a wall for months and come up with nothing. I aced his final so I still aced the class, but the project made me feel like a failure and made me scared that I wouldn't be able to handle a top-10 university program. I switched to Economics because that also interested me, but I never wanted to be a banker or a consultant. Anyway people knew me in that program best as the guy who coordinated putting together study groups. Problem sets took 7 hours to do individually, but only a few together. It was usually a bunch of leeches, but I didn't care. I should have cared more, since the classes were bell-curved. I finished college with a 3.2 gpa, which was below the standards of consulting companies anyway. I don't really regret anything from college. I took a lot of literature courses. I minored in Arts Management because I had plans to start a theater company that never really happened but it was still a great experience. Oh, and I found FFR in my freshmen year in 2004.

I took my first job after college at a software company in Wisconsin that just hires smart people. It was one of those Disneyland campuses you read about. My office (I had my own office) was at the end of an Indiana Jones themed hallway. But I found that I hated sitting in an office all day, but more than anything, I couldn't concentrate when I was sitting in front of a computer. I got distracted. I got modded here, lol. I left that job after about a year. The money was ridiculous though, so I spent a year visiting friends around the country and going to a couple conventions where I wrecked people at Guitar Hero 2 and Rock Band.

Oh, in 2006 I worked at a summer camp for the first time. It was a day camp. The only reason I worked there was because I wanted to be near the girl I had yet to get over, and she worked there. As I mentioned, there had been drama. We were friendly all summer, but one day she invited me to go along with her, her boyfriend, and another girl from camp to have dinner, see a movie, and hang out (I was 21 so I could even provide drinks!). This was the first time I would meet her boyfriend, and I suppose I wasn't as nice as I could have been. I don't remember doing anything that wasn't nice, but I think I was just staring at him a lot. When she confronted me about it at camp, I told her it was because I was insanely protective of her and I didn't know if this guy was good enough for her yet. She didn't listen to my reasoning and we didn't talk again until 2007 when she told me she was getting married. Anyway I mention the camp because it was here that I was told I should look into teaching, because I was so good with the kids. So when I moved back home in 2009, I looked into teaching math. I decimated my classes mainly because of the people who were in these classes with me. I was paying for it this time, so I completed my courses at Camden County College and Rutgers Camden. Not the best and brightest. I completed student teaching in 2011 and have been subbing ever since.

In a couple weeks I start a long term sub job in a fantastic district that I would love to work full time in. I hope I do well. I'm teaching Honors Geometry, Enriched Algebra, and Trig. Should be fun.

[SethColeman]

Re: Tell me your life story.

I'm teaching Honors Geometry, Enriched Algebra, and Trig. Should be fun.

teach me pls

[All_That_Chaz]

Re: Tell me your life story.

teach me pls

http://www.flashflashrevolution.com/...splay.php?f=68

[Cavernio]

Re: Tell me your life story.

I'm kinda sick of telling my life story these days, I'm far more obsessed with what I am right now and where I'm going. I guess that's a good thing though.
Anyways, I don't have much bad to say about my life, but reading about all these negative upbringings and failed romances, and after such an amazing weekend I had with my husband, I want to gush about him, so I guess this'll be a read about us.

We have a lot in common, but we're opposite in a lot of ways. Like he doesn't give a shit about social change or get into details about what's actually environmentally friendly or safe, he certainly doesn't spend hours reading research papers about things, all he cares about is his own little world and making it the best that he can. And he's really good at that, and right now I feel lucky to be a part of it. I trust him implicitly, the only way I could imagine him cheating on me would be if we our relationship would be basically broken anyways. I, on the other hand, have made us have conversations about open relationships.
He's fastidious. I'm a slob.

We became friends in grade 11 or 12, 14 years ago or so now, when he started dating one of my friends. We both agree that back then, we'd never have dated each other. Anyways, I went away to school but I kept in touch with him and quite a number of my old highschool friends throughout my degree and my worsening mental health. I guess we became closer friends, like I did with so many guys, over ICQ after he'd broken up. And whenever I came back to my home over Christmas and some summers through my degree, we'd invariably end up hanging out, even though as the 6 years passed that I was 1200km away, we talked less and less. I guess he had developed a bit of a crush on me earlier on, but I didn't for him.
I got my degree, I moved back to live with my parents, too distraught to really delve into life on my own even though at that point in time me and my parents weren't a good fit at all. My now husband, then being one of the few people I knew in town anymore, and being really bad at making new friends (I'm still terribad at that btw, and as I get older it gets more and more apparent), I hung out with him and a few other people almost as much as I could. Back then I still was in love with a different guy I'd been holding a torch for for years, (he never reciprocated) and I remember telling my current husband about it. At some point the obvious both got to us. We were both single, we enjoyed each other's company and I remember the night we both individually decided to send each other long, rambling emails about what was and wasn't going on between us. We hadn't been physical before then, not more than touching while watching movies, in more of the sense that we didn't separate if we did touch. And we decided to go for it physically. Damn it was (and oh it still is!) good. Every night we possibly could which isn't so easy when you both live with your parents. Lost so much sleep. Before we got committed to each other though, there was a lot of talk and a lot of hardship though, as I still had feelings for this other guy, and I was worried I was just into the sex. And, of course, the number of differences in values we had. (We actually have a lot of similar past-times though.) But we went for it, really went for a relationship about 2 months into the sex.
I'd finally had enough misguided anger from my parents not long after we started going out, and I had to move out. I had a room on my own for 2 months before my and my husband moved in together.
We finally got married 8 months ago, more than 5 years after being together, bought a house a month ago, and are trying (trying as in not trying not to) have a baby.

Anyways, he puts up with a lot from me. I have an explosive temper, I started drinking too much at some point (I know I know, can't if I get pregnant), I've had like 8 jobs since we've been dating, but been unemployed most of the time. Now he's gluten free for me since my celiac diagnosis, and not just at home but away too because he knows I get bouts of weakness and if I slip it can really fuck me up and he knows that if he's a good example, I will be less likely to order a pizza one day when I want to wallow. And I didn't put him up to that, it's all him. I tell him I'm alright if he eats something while we're out with other people, and he just says 'no'. We snuggle on the couch everyday, most of the past times we have we do together. We fight of course, but the hurt feelings don't last as long as they used to. We can still find new things about ourselves to talk about, and I trust him with anything about myself.
He makes me feel like I'm a good person, and because of that I try a little bit harder to make him feel good about himself. We have a relationship that I've never really seen in adults, and it's a really good relationship. He's a very loving person, he's a very forgiving person, and he tries so hard to be understanding. To me at least :-p
When/if we do have kids, he'll be a really, really good dad.
And while I can't change my nature and I still want to have my cake and eat it too, (have an open marriage), I am surprisingly content to leave that in fantasy.