#flashback to when I babysat this kid in high school who would yell at me what she wanted me to sing her a real song to bed

[crystalstar8]

Knights of the Night (ch.3)

Chapter 3

Ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29139240/chapters/71536491

pairing: Jungkook x oc

genre: vampire au, college au, twilight, romance

word count: 1,905

warnings: blood (obviously), kidnapping, child kidnapping, needles, France

notes: vampires, vampire au, college, college au, so many twilight references, blood, needles, kidnapping, children, homelessness, dance, ballet, flashbacks, romance, slow burn, probably no smut, idk yet tho, France, French things, attempted genocide, inaccurate French history, bisexual main character, @strawberriewithchocolate-blog @mozy-j  @daechwitad-2

summary: Catalina starts college in a small town all the way across the country. She doesn’t know anyone and isn’t exactly looking for friends. She just wants to focus on dance. But when she meets fellow dance major, Jimin, and adventurous, fellow freshman, Jungkook, Catalina ends up discovering a whole new side to the small college town; one that is dangerous but oh so enticing...

               The following day found Catalina following Jungkook to the campus library. They had gotten their tests back in French class that day and they both got Ds. Their professor set them up with a tutor, whom they were on the way to meet.

               “I can’t believe we got Ds,” said Catalina. “We studied!”

               “Yeah! We totally studied and it didn’t help us at all,” said Jungkook. Catalina thought back on their study session at her apartment; French textbooks open, bottles of wine scattered about, two full glasses, and the Twilight movies unironically playing on Catalina’s laptop.

               “Yeah we totally studied!” she said.

               The campus library was a huge, old building with towering bookshelves and dark wood furniture. They went down one of the halls where there were tables and chairs set up between the aisles. At the first table was a ridiculously handsome man, who stood up when he spotted them.

               “Well, well, well,” he said. “Look who’s failing his class already in the first week.”

               Jungkook frowned and stopped in his tracks. “You’re our tutor?”

               “Hey! Why are you saying it like that? You should be more like, ‘Oh, Jin! Thank goodness you’re helping me pass my French class, how can I ever repay you?’”

               “I’m assuming you guys…know each other?” said Catalina.

               Jungkook sighed and said, “Catalina, this is Jin. As you can see he’s very old and his dementia is setting in, making him talk nonsense-“

               Jin rounded the table and swatted at Jungkook, yelling, “Hey! I’m tutoring you out of the kindness of my heart and this is what I get?”

               A librarian stuck her head around the corner and shushed them angrily. Jin apologized and gestured to the two chairs across from his.

               “Yeah, I’ve known Jungkook since he was a child,” said Jin. “I practically raised him.”

               “He used to live next door. He babysat me and my brother like, two times,” said Jungkook.

               “So, are you two dating?” asked Jin. “Because I have some wonderful childhood stories to tell.”

               Catalina laughed and said, “We’re not dating, but I’d love to hear them.”

               “Jin,” said Jungkook. “Jin.”

               “What?”

               “I’ll kill you.”

               Jin laughed for several seconds, then sobered up in an instant. “Anyway, let’s get to work.”

               He flipped the French textbook open and began.

               “So, what are you guys having trouble with?” he asked. “Let’s see your tests.”

                 Catalina left the tutoring session feeling a bit better about her French class. As they walked out of the library, Jungkook said, “So, I’m having a party at my house tonight and you’re invited. My parents are out of town for this healthcare conference thing so everyone’s gonna be there. It’s gonna be awesome.”

               “And what do you mean by ‘everyone’?” asked Catalina. She’s always kind of wanted to go to one of those cliché house parties where a bunch of unwanted guests show up and the host is freaking out about their parents’ china cabinet or whatever. Her friends back home were pretty boring, so she never got the party experience.

               “I mean, like, everyone. Like, a bunch of people from my classes and from high school and stuff,” said Jungkook.

               “Okay, I’ll go. It sounds fun,” said Catalina. “Do you think a lot of people will show up despite the people going missing in the neighboring town?”

               “I mean, it’s not happening in this town so…” Jungkook shrugged.

               “Yeah, it’s probably fine,” said Catalina. “Anyway, I’ll come over late tonight. I have homework I need to finish.”

               “It’s okay, the party doesn’t start until late anyway, if you know what I mean,” Jungkook said with a wink. “It’s gonna be lit.”

               “I’ll see you later JK,” Catalina said, laughing. The two of them parted ways, Catalina wondering with trepidation, and also excitement, what the party was going to be like.

                 The party, as it turned out, was not lit. Catalina arrived around ten, after getting most of her homework done with minimal procrastination. There was only one car in front of the house besides Jungkook’s, and no lights on inside. Catalina texted him to make sure everything was alright. He answered, telling her to come to the back yard.

               The backyard was small, a tall wooden fence along the back separating it from the woods. In the middle of the yard were two people sitting in lawn chairs around a bonfire. Jungkook stood up and waved.

               “Hey, you made it!” said Jungkook. He gestured to the bonfire and said, “I told you it’d be lit.”

               Catalina cringed.

               “I’m sorry, that was terrible. I can’t believe I just said that,” he said.

               “I think Jin is getting to you,” said the other person sitting at the fire. Catalina realized that it was Jimin.

               “Jimin! I didn’t know you’d be here!” said Catalina. Jimin stood up and they hugged. “I didn’t know you guys knew each other.”

               “Yeah, we grew up together,” said Jimin.

               “Does everyone in this town know each other?” asked Catalina.

               “I mean…” Jimin started.

               “Kind of,” said Jungkook, setting up a chair for her. They all sat down. “Not really, but this town is pretty small. There’s only one high school so…”

               “I see,” said Catalina. “So, what happened to the party? I imagined like, a big house party with a bunch of people we don’t know, getting drunk and tossing vases around like footballs.”

               Jimin laughed so hard he almost fell off his chair.

               “What? Did you get that from Mean Girls?” asked Jungkook. Catalina nodded. “I don’t know, I guess everyone is “scared” of the “serial killer”, or whatever. They don’t know what they’re missing, because I plan on sharing some great horror stories around the bonfire tonight.”

               “Jungkook, I just want you to know how irresponsible this is!”

               Jin came into the backyard and stood there with his hands on his hips. Another man joined him, equally as handsome. This man was blonde, built, and wore a bomber jacket with patches all over it.

               “There is a serial killer on the loose and you’re throwing a party!” said Jin.

               “Well, you showed up so you’re just as bad. And you brought your boyfriend,” said Jungkook.

               “We are not dating and I am just here to tell you that you should end this right now. We are going to get kidnapped,” said Jin.

               “Catalina, this is Jimmy K, the local bad boy who is all of a sudden mysteriously hanging out with Jin all the time now,” said Jungkook.

               “Local bad boy, I love it,” said Jimmy K. He held out a hand to Catalina to shake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said with a wink.

               “Oh,” Catalina blushed, caught off guard. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

               Soon, they were all sitting around the bonfire listening to Jungkook begin his scary story.

               “This is something that happened to me when I was kid, and I never told anyone this before, because I was afraid no one would believe me. When I was nine, my brother and I were staying at our aunt’s house in the mountains while our parents were out of town on a relief mission. One day, I went out to explore the woods and do some climbing. I found a big rocky crag, which I climbed, hoping I’d end up at the top of the mountain. It wasn’t the top of the mountain by far, but I did find something else: a mossy trail leading deep into the woods,” Jungkook said, lowering his voice dramatically.

               “When is this supposed to get scary?” asked Jin.

               “Shut up. So I followed the trail. The sun was beginning to set and I knew I needed to head back to my aunt’s house soon, but I needed to see where the trail led to. I wasn’t disappointed. The trail opened up to an old cobblestone driveway, and at the end of the driveway was a huge house. It was old, one of those gothic Victorian houses, all dark brick and carved wood. I could see the sky from the clearing, which told me I had about an hour before it fully got dark. I went to the front door anyway. It was unlocked, so I went inside. There were cobwebs everywhere and sheets over furniture, a real classic haunted house, but I wasn’t afraid, because I knew ghosts weren’t real. So, I went deeper into the house. All of a sudden, the front door slammed shut behind me. I was thrown into darkness. Then I heard a voice somewhere in the house say, ‘Don’t you know trespassers get eaten, little boy?’ I was terrified, so I turned around and tried to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge. The voice was laughing. Finally, the door opened and I ran from the house as fast as I could. I ran back through the trail, climbed back down the rocks and ran. It was dark now and my lungs were burning. Eventually, I made it back to my aunt’s house. She was waiting outside for me, angry. She said, “dammit Jungkook! I told you not to go too far in these woods. There’s monsters out there who eat reckless little boys like you!’

               “And that’s the story of how I found out ghosts are real,” Jungkook finished.

               “That was more like listening to a trauma story than a scary story,” said Jimin. Jungkook took his shoe off and threw it at Jimin, who actually fell off his chair laughing this time.

               “I thought it was a good story,” said Jimmy K, who was listening with interest.

               “Thank you,” said Jungkook.

               “That didn’t actually happen to you, did it?” asked Catalina.

               “Yeah, it did. Minus the cobwebs, sheets, and locked door. But my aunt definitely did say that when I got back. Actually, I remember the real life house being really pretty and not dark, which made me realize that I had just broken into someone’s house. That’s when I ran away. So, who’s next?” said Jungkook.

                 Catalina was running again. They were right behind her. Her heart was pounding in her aching chest as her bare feet thudded against the forest trail. It was close, just a little farther and she’d be safe. The footsteps behind her were getting closer. They were heavy and fast, much stronger than she was. Finally, the house came into view and she threw the front door open. She tried closing it behind her, but the door was too small for the frame and it wouldn’t close all the way. She could feel tears pricking at her eyes. They were going to catch her and she couldn’t do anything about it… Catalina turned around and ran deeper into the house. As she rounded the corner, she found herself in a den, running right into someone. But she wasn’t afraid of this person. She knew she was finally safe here.

“They can’t get you here,” the man said as he held her against his broad chest. She looked up at him. He smiled down with his dimples and perfect teeth. She felt herself melt against him.

But it didn’t last long. Soon, he disappeared and the fire went out in the fireplace, leaving the room in cold darkness. An unfamiliar voice chuckled, the laughter bouncing off the walls to taunt her.

“Don’t you know trespassers get eaten, little girl?”

Catalina jolted awake that morning, a scream lodged in her throat.

[writing-realityawayfromreality]

Running Scared

*roughly based off of the song All too Well by T.Swift. I’m deep in the Jake feels at the moment so please bare with me. Hope y’all enjoy. As always, all the love.

-K

*Warnings: there is a decent age gap between the reader and Jake*

*present (reader is about 26 and Jake is 36)*

 You were back in town and your parents had asked you to come have  dinner with them at the Gyllenhaals. you were suppose to be getting ready but you found yourself sitting on the bed on your phone in your old room at your parents house. “Maybe I was a young, naive, little girl” you thought as you were scrolling through Instagram seeing picture of a guy that you thought was going to be your best friend for the rest of your life. You couldn’t get away from him, everywhere you looked there he was, and it was all because of his new movie coming out. He sure did know what he wanted to do with his life, how could you blame him, someone who as talented as him should be doing exactly what he was doing. You couldn’t help yourself but watch some of his interviews just to hear his voice, a voice that you could listen to all day long, you came across a clip of him reading one of your favorite books as a kid. 

*flashback (reader around 6 years old, Jake around 16)*

“Where are we going?” you asked your parents  “We are going over to the Gyllenhaals honey, you know Maggie and Jake...” your mom said. “Yay, I love spending time with Jake.” you giggled. “Well that’s good sweetie because your mommy and I are going out with their mommy and daddy and Jake said that he wouldn’t mind watching you.” you dad said. “A whole night with Jake? Cool!” you said.   You’re parents knocked on the door only to be greeted by Jake. “Hey” He said hugging your parents. “Mom and Dad are just about done getting ready, please come in.” Jake said stepping aside to allow you into the house. “How are you y/n?” Jake asked. “I’m good, mommy and daddy said that you were going to watch me tonight.” You said excitedly. It wasn’t the first time that Jake had babysat you. Honestly he was your favorite babysitter. Jake just smiled.

Jake had just made your favorite meal. Chicken fingers and Mac and Cheese and for dessert he cut you a piece of cake. Jake had let you alone to play with some toys that you brought along while he cleaned up from dinner. not too long after he asked if you wanted to watch a movie. “How about Toy Story?” Jake asked looking through the movies. “I love that movie!” you yelled. Jake placed the movie in the tape player and walked over to the sofa. It started off with you both eating popcorn, slowly as time went on you could feel yourself getting tired. You moved closer over to Jake and snuggled into him. After the movie had ended Jake woke you up asking if you wanted to go to bed, you nodded sleepily and he carried you up and laid you the spare bed. “Jake, can you read me a bedtime story?” you asked looking at him. “Sure.” He said grabbing a book off the shelf. “How about goodnight moon?” He asked. “My favorite!” you said curling up under the blanket 

*Present* 

You still kept that book in a box in the back of your closet in your apartment.  You could feel the feelings coming back of how you felt about Jake. You threw your phone expecting it to hit the bed next to you but instead it fell to the ground. Getting off the bed you picked it up off the floor but not before noticing something under your bed. It was a box, opening it you saw all your old school stuff, you were a pretty good student. Looking through the papers you came across a math test which had a score of 100% probably the only one with 100% on it. 

*Flashback (reader is about 10 and jake is about 20)*

“Hey! What are you doing here?” Jake asked walking into the dinning area of his house, “Parents are out of town and they think that i wouldn’t be okay alone at home so i have to stay here for the weekend.’” you said not looking up from your homework. “What are you doing home? shouldn’t you be at college” you asked. “Just getting a few things.” Jake said before walking away, going up stairs. “This is so stupid!” you yelled. Jake came back into the room . “What?” he asked. “This math homework, I want to be a writer, where is math going to come into play?” you asked. “Well,you never know when you are going to need math in real life situations. What’s the problem?” He asked sitting down next to you. placing his bag on the floor.

*Present*

You could recall staying up all night with Jake doing problem after problem. He had spent the weekend at home making sure that you could pass your test, barely making it back to college for his own classes. He had spent a lot of his summers at home, you recalled spending the whole summer with him since your parents had gone to help with a movie and they didn’t want to drag you with making you spend a summer away from friends so they left you with the Gyllenhaals.

*Flashback (reader is 16 and Jake is 26)* 

Your parents had to go out of the states for a movie they were helping to produce, you had to stay with the gyllenhaals the entire summer, it was exciting. It would had been a boring summer but Jake was home and was able to take you places, you guys went to movies, to the beach. Every Sunday night you guys would unwind with a movie at home. It was your favorite summer by far. That was the summer you started to fall for Jake. 

*present*

“Stupid” you thought thinking back to that summer. You remembered those stories you would write based on the adventures you guys went on. It helped you to develop your writing style, Jake would read the stories and help you correct certain things, improving your story. You continued to look through the box coming across the flowers you kept from prom, they were all dried up but still in tact. 

*Flashback (reader is about 17 and jake is about 27)* 

You felt your heart sink when your date didn’t show up. You sat there on the steps outside your house when you heard a familiar voice. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing on the steps crying?” you looked up to see Jake standing in front of you. “He didn’t show up...” You said wiping your tears away. “What a jerk.” Jake said sitting down next to you wrapping an arm around you and pulling you into him. You rested your head on his shoulder. You two sat there for a while in silence “It is what it is.” you said shifting to stand up. “What time does prom end?” “Not for another hour or so...” you said looking at him confused. “Come on.” Jake said grabbing your hand and headed to his house. You waited while he ran upstairs, it didn’t take long before he came back down dressed in one of his suits. “Shall we?” He asked. 

*Present*

You smiled remembering how everyone looked at you and Jake when you showed up at prom with him. They guy that was suppose to take you was dancing with your best friend. usually you would had ran away crying but Jake held you closer, a slow song started right as you walked in, Jake lead you to the dance floor, pulling you in close he placed his hands on your hips swaying back and forth, you looked around, you could feel yourself shaking because everyone's eyes were on you “Hey...” Jake said placing a hand on your chin to turn your face towards him. “I got you, just look at me.” Jake said. You felt yourself relax, resting your head on him as you dancing to the song. That following summer you and Jake had spent the entire summer together, traveling to his sets, late night just talking about anything and everything, you could feel yourself really starting to like Jake and you thought he felt the same way. Shaking your head and pushing those thoughts away you continued to look through the box. The last thing that you pulled out was a college letter. 

*flashback (reader is 18 and jake is 28)*

“Come on honey, open the letter.” your mom encouraged. “He should be here by now.” you said looking out of the window. “Sweetie, you know that he is busy filming. you can text him to let him know whether or not you got in.” your dad said. you checked your phone to see if he had texted you, nothing. you had no choice but to open the letter. Reading the first line you let out a scream of excitement “You got in?” your parents asked. “I got in!” you yelled hugging them. You were going to NYU for college to pursue your writing career. Jake had promised to come home so he could be there when you opened the letter but he hadn’t even texted you. When it was finally time for you to move into college he was nowhere to be found, you hadn’t heard from him all summer but you saw that he was out and about with is girlfriend, you could feel your heart shatter. This was both of your dreams, for you to get into NYU and you would live with him at his place in New York that way your parents didn’t have to worry about housing and whether or not you would be safe, it was a bulletproof plan. Jake was still living in New York, living his dream, just not the one that you dreamt of together.

*present*

You placed everything back into the box and pushed it back under the bed. You finally decided that it was time to get ready for dinner. You had showered and in the midst of doing your hair when your mom walked in “Hey honey, the Gyllenhaals had just texted and said that Jake was home, this is going to be so much fun.” you mom said excitedly. “Yay!” you pretended to be excited. You were mad at him still, he basically left you the summer you graduated college, he had stopped coming home and hardly texted you, he seemed to be too busy with those girls he was dating and all the movies he was promoting and filming. You finished doing your hair and makeup before heading downstairs. You put on a maroon dress accompanied by a plaid scarf, grabbing your knee high boots you headed down the stairs to meet up with your parents. The Gyllenhaals lived a few houses down so you all just walked. Your mom knocked on the door. Jake had opened the door. “Hey guys, come in!” Jake said excitedly. your parents walked in first and you followed behind. You could feel eyes on you, turning around you saw Jake starting at you. 

“You’ve grown.” Jake said walking up to you. “That’s what happens in life Jake.” you said before walking away. Both families were talking to one another before sitting down for dinner. You could feel Jakes eyes on your the entire time you were there. “So y/n, no boyfriend.” Jake asked,  “Actually, y/n is engaged. The wedding is in a few months.” Your mom said before grabbing your hand to show off your ring. “He is an editor.” you dad chimed in. “Jake, did we forget to tell you? It’s going to be the... 18th of January. You’ll be attending, right?”Jake’s mom asked. “I think I’m going to be out of state.” Jake  mumbled. Your parents continued talking about the wedding but you found yourself looking at Jake. His whole demeanor changed. He was now tense hardly making any eye contact with you. You and Jake had been asked to clear the table wash up some of the dishes. Jake dried while you washed. It was just like old times when both of you were younger. “How’ve you been.” you asked Jake. “Well.” Jake responded not looking at you. You continued to wash while Jake dried in silence. 

You knew Jake all to well to know that he was mad. “What’s your issue?” You asked turning off the water. “I don’t know what you are talking about.” Jake said as he continued to dry the dish in his hand. “Bullshit Jake...” you said grabbing the towel out of his hands. “What the hell y/n?” Jake said looking at you. “I come in and you couldn’t stop looking at me and then my parents bring up me being engaged and you completely changed. Why?” you asked. “ I don’t know what you are talking about y/n, now can we get back to cleaning up?” Jake asked. “are you mad?” You asked looking at him. “No.” Jake said “you totally are... Oh this is great, you are mad because I’m engaged aren’t you jake?” you asked looking at him. “I AM NOT MAD!” Jake said raising his voice. “You totally are... but you have no reason to be, and you want to know why Jake?” you said, Jake raised his eyebrows at you. “I should be the one to be mad at you.” “And why is is that?” Jake asked now surprised. “Because you left me!” you yelled not caring who heard. Jake looked taken back, he  motioned you to be quiet before quickly grabbing your wrist and leading you upstairs to his childhood  bedroom, the twin size bed still sitting where you remembered it was. “Don’t touch me.” you said pulling your wrist away from Jake “What are you talking about, I left you!” Jake yelled. “Oh please, you did what you always do, you ran because you were scared Jake!” You yelled back. “I don’t know what you are talking about.” Jake said looking down at the ground. “That’s why you still aren’t married Jake, you leave right before it gets too far. You get close and then you just...” you quieted down. “I what?” Jake yelled. “...leave.” You said fuming. “You don’t know anything y/n, you don’t know how I felt...” He said looking at you. “I don’t know anything? Then why don’t you fill me in Jake?” you asked even more mad than you were seconds ago. Jake stayed silent. “Let me tell you what i do know Jake... I knew how I felt when we would drive up state, singing in the car, not caring what we sounded like to those around us, I knew how i felt when your mom pulled out the photo albums showing me pictures of you when you were a child on the tee ball team. I remember you getting all embarrassed because of your thick glasses you were wearing in those pictures. you thought you looked goofy but i thought you looked cute.” you said looking at him, you could feel yourself getting all choked up thinking about the past. 

“I.. I remember how i felt dancing with you in the refrigerator light that night I applied for NYU, I was scared about the future, you told me about your past, i thought you were going to be my future, but now that’s long gone Jake.” you said pausing to see his facial expression. “maybe we got lost in translation, maybe i asked for too much, maybe i thought we were more than what we wer. And so what it is wasn’t right? what we had was rare. And then you come back just to break me like that promise...” you said stopping yourself before you started crying. “Promise? What promise?” Jake asked looking at you.

“Of course you wouldn’t remember, why would you Jake, you know i thought that this feeling would pass as time went on but it was like i was paralyzed by it. I’m trying to get back to being the old me but, I just can’t. Not with seeing you everywhere and anywhere...” Jake cut you off. “College... living together... Y/n, I am so sorry...” Jake began as if he just remember the dream you both had but it was your turn to cut him off, “No Jake, you don’t get to apologize, not after all these years. You ran away...” you started “Because I loved you!” Jake blurted out. you were taken back, at a loss for words, Jake and you both just looked at eachother, for a few seconds the room was silent. “Loved? Jake...” you were still looking for those words when Jake spoke “Love...” Jake said. All of the sudden you weren’t feeling so well, you walked over to the bed sitting on it with your head in your hands. “Y/n, I didn’t know how to tell you back then, you were so young, what 18? For christ sake I was 28, i use to babysit you when you were younger y/n, now tell me that doesn’t sound creepy.” Jake said sitting next to you.

“But you dated all those other girls and  now are in a tizzy because I am engaged.” you said. “Because I was trying to get over you! You don’t know how hard it was for me y/n.” Jake started  “I love you y/n, and I know that you love me, still, you said that that feelings not there but I know they are... ” Jake said taking you by your hand. “Jake, I.....I’m engaged.” you said. “But I know that you aren’t happy.” Jake said. “If you really love me Jake, you would be happy for me, not here trying to make me feel bad about being happy...If I mean that much to you, then come to the wedding.” You said getting up and walking out.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It has been a few weeks later and you found yourself sitting in your apartment.   The excitement of the holidays were long over and you were back home.You kept replaying the words that Jake said. “I love you y/n, and i know that you love me, still...” Did you still love him? who were you kidding, of course you did. You never stopping loving him. You glanced down at your finger, the shiny ring reflecting up at you. It was only a few weeks until the wedding. 

“But I know that you aren’t happy...” you replayed in your head. You knew that you weren’t truly happy either. You loved your fiance but you weren’t in love with him, he was just someone that you thought would help you get over your feelings for Jake. It turns out that you were still  in love with Jake, even after all these years. You thought making all these different decisions for your wedding was the hardest thing you had to do. Looking past your dress and out the window you saw the beautiful city lights that you had dreamed of as a kid. You were right where you wanted to be, the city, the job, the relationship, just not the guy you dreamt of it being with. You knew that you couldn’t leave your fiance for Jake. 

All those things that Jake had said to you over the holiday made you feel like you had those butterflies fluttering in your tummy, for Christ sake, he told you he loved you, but you weren’t sure that you could trust him. What if the going got tough? would he run away scared? There was only one thing left to do... go through with the wedding, both of your families were flying across the states just to see you guys. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was finally your wedding day, you had just gotten your bridesmaids pictures done, it was them helping you put on your dress, there were a few pictures of your dad seeing you all dressed up. Everything was going according to plan, it was almost perfect, except for one thing....Jake. You found yourself hoping and praying that he was going to be sitting in the church when you got there. You wanted to see him one last time, you needed to see him before you say I do. There was a slight knock on your door, you could feel your heart skip a beat, Jake? you thought. Hearing your maid of honor telling the person that they would give you the note you felt yourself getting nervous. 

“It’s from your soon to be husband.” you maid of honor said. You thanked her and took the note, looking at you confused “Aren’t you going to open it?” She asked. “Oh, um yeah... why don’t you guys start heading down to the lobby, I’ll read it and then head down.�� you said acting like you were going to open the note. “Alright, come one girls...” your friend said. Once you were alone in your room you could feel yourself starting to get nervous. You knew that it wasn’t right going through with the wedding when the only man you could think of is Jake. You headed out the door, leaving the note on the bed unread. 

Meeting the girls in the lobby they could tell that something was wrong. “Nervous?” they asked. “Just a little.” you said. “well the limo is here and they said that the guests are being seated now at the church, waiting for your arrival.” “Let’s do this.” you said heading out the hotel doors and  into the limo. 

As the church came into sight you could feel your body shaking. “Hey... It’s going to be alright y/n...” your best friend said. “I know.” you replied half heartedly. You and your bridal team took their places at the door lining up in order of how they would stand at the altar. One by one they disappeared through the doors and down the aisle. You felt yourself wanting to run, run away from all of this. If you just wouldn’t had seen Jake at Thanksgiving everything would had been fine. Glancing down at the flowers in your hand your eyes caught the shine of your ring. 

You could hear the music beginning to play signaling you to walk through the doors, usually it would be any girls favorite song to hear on their wedding day but to you it sounds like a death march. “Are you ready miss?” the man at the door asked. “Yeah, i’m ready.” You said as they opened the door to reveal your fiance at the end of the aisle. You walked to your dad grabbing his arm. “Are you sure you want to do this, we can turn around right now and go home...” your dad said. “I’m sure.” you said continuing to walk down the aisle, that was until you saw Jake sitting in the middle of the church. You could feel yourself slow down even more looking at him, he was looking back at you, smile on his face but the look of don’t do this in his eyes. You were finally at the altar, you were so focused on Jake that you didn’t even hear anyone talking, you felt your dad whisper in your ear “Go to him.” those words snapped you out of your thoughts. 

Looking at your dad confused he was looking back at Jake. You shook your head and headed up their stairs to meet your fiance, grabbing his hands. When it was time for your vowels you couldn’t remember what you had written, trying to recall from memory. Your fiance laughed telling you that it was okay, that it was an emotional day. Your fiance said his vowels without any issues. You hardly heard them. The only thing that you heard was the gasps, bringing you back to reality. Looking at the crowd you saw Jake standing there in the middle of the aisle you had walked down. 

“Sorry, I’m so sorry everyone, I’m not usually someone who objects. But, I just couldn’t sit there when there are so many things that I have yet to say to y/n. You had refused to look at Jake, continuing to look at your fiance. “Y/n... Please.” You could hear the pain in his voice. You turned to give Jake your full attention only hoping this whole thing would soon be over. Jake and walked closer to the altar, standing at the bottom of the steps looking straight at you, as if only talking to you with no one else around. 

“I know that I said a lot of stupid things that last night we saw each other...” of course you did you thought. “But I really meant what I said.... I love you.” Which caused you to laugh. “Listen, I was young and dumb, I didn’t think that it would be okay for me to date someone who is 10 years younger than me, I thought our parents would be displeased, that the media would change me into this monster that I wasn’t, but I was selfish and only thinking about myself. So yes, I moved, I had girlfriends, but the truth is I was just trying to get over you, and I honestly thought i had. When I saw you at Thanksgiving, all those feelings came back, and when I heard that you were engaged, I was furious, not at you but at myself for not being able to tell you all the things I remember all too well. I thought that I had missed my chance...” Jake stopped looking at you for any sign, any sign at all.

“Is that all?” your fiance had asked looking at him, you felt your fiance trying to turn you back around to get on with the ceremony. “ “Do you remember the time we were driving and I almost ran the red?” Jake asked. “Oh come on.” your fiance said looking at you. You had let go of your fiance’s hands and walked down a few steps to get closer to Jake to listen to him. You wanted to hear what he had to say since he recalled one of the most scariest moments between the two of you. “I almost ran the red because i was looking at you, watching the wind blow through your hair.” Jake said. “I screamed, and you apologized the rest of the ride, asking if I wanted to drive the rest of the way.” You recalled. “Because I couldn’t imagine life without. Do you remember how the leaves looked, they were so pretty...”   Jake stated. “They were just starting to turn.” you smiled remembering.  “I remember you coming over to my place the night that we found out that you got into NYU, how we danced in the refrigerator light. How the light looked glistening off of your skin. I remember that scarf you left at my sisters house that one Thanksgiving when you were much younger, how you were so upset because that was the last scarf at the store and you had gotten such a good deal on it... I still have it.” Jake said smiling “After all these years?  You found it?” You asked. “It’s in one of my draws.  I told you, I remember all too well.” Jake finished. You could feel yourself starting to tear up, he really did mean it, that he loves  you. “But you ran...” you said “Because I was scared... but i’m not scared anymore.” He said looking you in the eyes. “Um, not to be mean but, we are kind of in the middle of getting married, come on y/n.” your fiance said behind you. “Please.” Jake mouthed. “I....I...  I can’t” You said walking down the steps and out the doors. 

You were sitting in your bridal room, packing up your stuff. Your ex fiance had come down asking you to come back, there was no such luck for him, except he had gotten the ring that has been haunting you for months. Your bridal shower has come down to your room, they didn’t dare ask you to come back, instead they understood and said that they would go and pack their things. Your mom had come and asked if you were okay, you cried on her shoulder. “Honey, your father and I knew this was going to happen....” you looked at her. “That Jake would interject?” you asked sitting back. “No, that you two would be together. I know that you liked.... ryan.... jack.... whatever his name was, but there was always something between you and Jake. Don’t worry about the wedding, you are still young, there can always be another.” Your mom said patting you on the shoulder before leaving you all alone. 

The was a light knock. “Come in.” you said not getting up from the bed, you have been sitting there since you talked to your mom. Jake walked in, not saying anything but just taking in your state of appearance. He didn’t say anything but just sat beside you. “Did you really mean all those things that you have said?” you asked not daring to look at him. “That I love you... yes. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I am so sorry  I left you.” before you knew what you were doing you felt your lips on his. It was a quick peck, taking both of you by surprise. “Sorry...” You said. “Not as sorry as  I am for this.” Jake said before crashing his lips on yours again, you could feel his hand cupping your cheek. You both pulled away but not before Jake grabbed your hands in his. Looking down he saw that there was no ring. 

“He wanted me to come back and finish the ceremony.... I gave the ring back. Clearly he wasn’t the type of man I thought he was. He was rather rude to you.” You said. “Well I don’t think any guy would appreciate a random guy crashing his wedding and confessing his love to the person he was going to marry.” Jake said laughing. “I love you Jake, I never stopped.” You said trying to change the subject. “I know you do. And even though I might had dated those other actresses who were wonderful people. They could never compare to you.” Jake said. 

“You know. My dad told me to go to you...” You said laughing “What?” He asked looking a little confused. “My dad, before I walked up the stairs he told me to go to you.” You said. “wow, you know your dad said the same thing when I walked into the church, he said go to her.” Jake said looking at you with a smile. Just then you heard another knock on the door. “Come on in.” you hollard. “Hey honey, your mother said that...” you dad stopped short looking at the situation in front of him. Jake sitting on your bed, you still in your wedding dress with the makeup smeared down your face. “Finally.” your dad said before walking back out of the room.  

You and Jake both started laughing. “Alright.... But in all seriousness, Jake if this is going to work between us, you have to promise me something.” you said looking at him. “What’s that?” “No more running scared. If the going gets tough. you stay and we talk it through.” you said. “deal. But that goes for you too.” He said. “Deal.” You felt Jake place a kiss on your cheek before getting up. “Where are you going?” you asked. “I thought you might want to get changed, and I was hoping we could go and get some food.” Jake stated. “Oh Jake, how you win over my heart day after day.” you said laughing.”Haha funny, see you in... five?” He asked. “Of course.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*3 years later*

You woke up grabbing the robe and wrapping it around you and walking out onto the deck. You watched as the sun appeared above the mountains.  “Sleep well?” A man asked. “Like a baby since I was sleeping next to you.” You said placing a kiss on the man’s head. you sat down next to him, looking over and smiling. “It looks good on you.” He said taking your hand, the both of you looked down at the two rings shining bright from the sun. “I could say the same thing about yours.” You said gesturing to his hand. “Do we really have to leave this beautiful place?” you asked changing the subject. “Not if you don’t want to, our honeymoon could last a lifetime.” Jake said looking at you. “as long as we are together.” you finished.   

[catholicismabusedestiny]

My Youth

10.12.2004

While I’d found some approval by helping my mother with the kids – changing diapers, doing dishes, cleaning, laundry and watching the younger ones, all of the changed when I was about 11 when Dad thought that I was “too involved” with the kids which impacted his ability to scare each of them into submission because he knew that’s when I would get between he and the other kids in an attempt to protect and that pissed him off more than anything.  

1.    It’s Ironic, he created the kid I’d become with his Sunday night talks yet held it against me once he felt that his way of doing things was called into question. Many of our “disagreements” never had anything related to me, personally; instead, it usually transpired when he’d do something like telling all 7 of us not to speak or say a word during dinner one night.  However, the baby (Katie in a high chair) began crying shortly after Dad’s “demand” (obviously picking up the energy, fear and anxiety in the room) which is when I stood up and said that “just because you had a bad day is no reason to take it out on us…”   As you can imagine, Dad went ballistic and chased me down the block. He and I had many, many fights that ended up outside - for all the neighbors to see and hear - after I learned that I could never enter a room he was in w/o ensuring my safety by sitting as close to an exit as possible.  

01.12.2005

Without question, the very worst years for the physical and emotional abuse were on Quincy Street; I was very young and, thus, unable to defend myself.  Moreover, I cornered in that back bedroom and didn’t yet have any exit I could run to.  I was trapped! The flashbacks of those early years (< the age of 10/11) has been at the forefront of my work within therapy for a variety of reasons including how/why Mom never defended me from Dad’s anger and rage attacks and, because I was so young myself, there were no witnesses of this behavior.  

However, the neighbors all had to know because that back/blue bedroom was no more than 10 – 12 feet from the neighbor’s house and I screamed and yelled through many of the beatings and confrontations.

06.12.2009

Throughout my childhood and early adulthood one of the most disturbing and repetitive dreams were of being hurt by someone who was a blacked-out figure; I could see and ever hear this person but their face was blacked out, thus, I was unable to see who it was.  However, through therapy and I was able to recall many of those repressed dreams – particularly those that were extremely disturbing such as the person who was blacked out in so many dreams.

Neighbor sexually molested me twice in bathroom while his wife babysat us; and, when I was older (10), a friend of my father did the same thing and these two occasions I remember more vividly because it took place when he’d drive his car (with only me in the car) into this little park down the road where the boat lift was at the end of our street where he backed his car into a parking spot (so that he could see anyone else coming into the parking lot).  

§  Allegedly, he’s stop by our home on days when he knew Dad was traveling and Mom was preoccupied with the little ones; therefore, he’d “volunteer to go to the market for whatever Mom needed taking me with him.

§  To this day, I can describe every detail of his car, inside and out, as well as the huge class ring he wore on his pinky finger of his right hand.  

§  In these dreams, one of the scariest parts was that I was unable to identify the person (they were always just a dark/black portrait of someone); however, during the years of intense therapy and hypnosis, I fought like hell to uncover that black mask so that I might not have such disturbing dreams again and, while we uncovered many relevant details including his identity, it never did eliminate the nightmares but they were less often.

08.04.1995

During the early years (< 8 years old when Dad threatened me with how I was helping to take care of the kids), if/when something was broken, or one of the kids got in trouble, Dad would yell “who did this?”  (i.e. one day the backyard was filled with neighborhood kids and someone threw a baseball through the bathroom window and, within seconds, my father came barreling out the back door and asked “who did this?”); when no one would confess (which no kids in his right mind would do), my father grabbed me by the arm and dragged me into the back bedroom and blamed me because “it was your responsibility, you are responsible for what the other kids do and you were not doing your job today..”  SMACK!

Because my father would use terms like being “ashamed” of me and “embarrassed” by my stupidity and clumsiness, I believed him. Therefore, as a kid, the other kids picked up on my how self-esteem and bullied me all through 8th grade. When the school bell rang at the end of the day, I would panic.  How would I get home?  Even though it was a mere three blocks, there’s a bully that would wait for me to get close to my parent’s home, drag me in the alley, take whatever I had on me and even throw my books into the sewer.  Since I would get home after the other kids had been home for a while, my Mother was usually in the kitchen; being totally and completely embarrassed that I couldn’t/didn’t fight back, I’d sneak up the back stairs, go to my room and shut the door while I cleaned up.

My father, believing that it was mandatory for all boys, continually pushed me to play baseball because all boys played baseball in 1967; those four years of little league were AWFUL, I HATED every minute of it.  I wasn’t able to engage in the after school activity that I wanted to (because I had to come home and held Mom) yet Dad would step in on the weekend and force me to do what he wanted me to do (at times I felt that I was living in a cage and only allowed out when there was something menial to perform).  

§  As a result, my father determined what I should do during the week, as well as the weekend.  And, as you’d expect from someone that didn’t want to be there, I was by far the worst player on the teams, thus, when I dropped the ball or was unable to catch the rare fly ball in the right field.  However, the biggest worry or concern I had in the back of my mind the entire time was what Dad would say to me afterwards and he didn’t hesitate to humiliate me even further.  I was miserable each and every moment and constantly worried what Dad would say or do – particularly because he’d constantly asked me “why can’t you be more like Tim and Pat?  You’re an embarrassment to this family.”

§  In retrospect, thanks to years and years of therapy, my father beat me down (physically, emotionally, psychologically), blamed me for things I had no control over (i.e. my siblings), withheld any sort of affirmations or positive reinforcement, labeled me a liar/discrediting the messenger and then told me that I’d never succeed because I was stupid, worthless and unworthy.

12.01.1999

Up until the age of 10 or 11, after the last child was born and about the time where my father came to deeply resent my “responsibility for the kids” – which was beat into me for as far back as I can remember; however, once it threatened his role or, more precisely once I started to get a voice, my father did a 180 degree turn and anything I did around the house or with the kids was not likely to get me in trouble.

7/21/1999

My mother came from a damaged familial dysfunction just as my father did.  While my father’s childhood was much like mine with physical beatings, as well as verbal names, taunts and emotional abuse, my mother’s was emotional abuse due to her alcoholic mother who, as our Grandmother, we use to make fun of because or her forgetfulness after a few drinks.  We knew no better and took our cues from our parents; but, when I was young (< 10 or 11), “Nana” would take the entire family to dinner, often on a Friday night so that we could eat at their favorite Friday fish fry.  While the establishment appeared more to be a bar than a restaurant, they did have seating in a separate room from the bar.

My memories are more of a flash during those times.  I can see Nana at the head of the table and my father at the other end with Mom and all of the kids along the two sides of the long table.  We would often sit on the side of the restaurant where there was a large porch we could sit under.  Ironically, I recall the food being quite good, good enough to still make me hungry when I think of the place.  The place is long ago torn down but it was down along a road that stretched from Hinsdale through Westmont (running east west).  While it was closer to Westmont, it was the same road in which Notre Dame Church is on – which is where my parents were married.

Compared to my Mother who was wound up quite tight and her sister who was wound up tighter than just about anyone else I know, Nana was much more of an open, talkative, progressive individual who pictured herself somewhat as Auntie Mame.  I remember when they still had their house in Clarendon Hills, Nana would ask if I or Tom could stay overnight with her; I don’t have any memory of being there with Tom but I do recall sleeping in my Mom’s old bed and getting up around 11pm to watch a late TV show with Nana.  Nana’s most favorite line (usually said after she did something or forgot something and was being teased for it) “You’ll remember me when I’m dead and gone” and she was right!

06.20.2009

Since I’ve had the longest memory of any other sibling – particularly through the most difficult years of Mom and Dad’s marriage (when they were in their 20’s with severe financial constraints, and had experienced the fire or the car accident when Patty was born), I felt that I more-or-less became the enemy.  

Whenever I’d bring up anything from the past (i.e. my very first memory of the fire and how awful Dad treated this 3 year old son), I was told I was wrong and, even worse, that I was a liar.  

Mom had a script of sorts from which she wanted friends and relatives to believe; therefore, whenever something I’d say that was in conflict with said script (of make believe), I honestly felt as though I was being attacked.  

Mom didn’t want people to know about the abuse on Quincy (and her concern for covering over this period of time was less about what Dad did and more about what she didn’t do); however, given how often I’d try to run and, eventually, was able to do just that, the neighbors all knew exactly what was going on.  Thus, anytime I said something neither of them liked (like calling them out on specific things from the past), rather than have a discussion and clarify facts in question, they both just labeled me a troublemaker and a liar from an early age through their later years.

§  Moreover, since much of what occurred was behind a closed door with only my father and I in the room and most of the other kids too young and unaware of what was occurring, there recollection of that time and those events is quite different that mine and, if there’s anything I’ve learned from all of this therapy is the honesty and openness is paramount and NO ONE has the right to tell you what did or didn’t happen to you.

For my Dad, nothing I did was good enough – school grades, athletics – he ridiculed me daily as “you’re stupid… you’ll never amount to anything…  you are a complete embarrassment to the family… your Mother and I ashamed to have you as our son…  why can’t you be like Tim and Pat???…”

§  So many specific images of this time have appeared to me in memories even as I entered my 50’s, at least once a week, I’d wake up from a dream of someone chasing me to hurt me and it’s so emotionally disturbing that I wake up in a sweat.  

05.12.2008

With my father being gone most of the time and not possessing any real parenting skills himself, my father ordered me to take on the role of the leader @ 3 years old and, if I failed and one of the kids wandered off or got in trouble, I was the one responsible for what happened.  In fact, one therapist went so far as to say that your Dad “robbed you of a childhood by not letting you do kid things and by mandating that the other kids were your responsibility” - until such time as I began to speak up. I was about 10 or 11 when this occurred and, as you might imagine, this angered my father immensely yet it was him who trained and/or disciplined me to do precisely what I was doing…  taking on the responsibility of my siblings.  

It’s ironic that by having forced me to be the “leader” at a very young age while not providing me with anything resembling positive reinforcement acceptance; therefore, I went about not only trying to be the leader but I would do many things at a young age when not even asked (hoping to be recognized); thus, whether it was doing the dishes or changing diapers, I did it; but, by 10 or 11, it was over. He then immediately started resenting me for the precise role he forced me into taking; it was true irony lost on my father.  Moreover, because I began speaking up for myself and others, anything I said was not valid because I was a liar.

As a child, I remember relatives and friends of my parents being concerned or worried for them. Not only did they have six kids within ten years, there was a house fire in 1962 that was my very first memory.  With my parents having drinks on the neighbors back porch, I and my two younger brothers (one of them < 3 months old) were asleep in the boys back bedroom when a spark from the heater stuck a mop stored in the same closet at about the same time as my father walked over to check on us.  With the fire centered in the middle of the house, both the front and back doors were blocked by the flames; therefore, my father – thankfully – closed our bedroom door, opened a window and picked me up and had me jump down to the ground, then it was Tom’s turn (Tom was 2 and I was 3); then, my father screaming at the top of lungs for me to take responsibility, stop crying, take care of your brothers as he tries to have me take my 3 months old brother from his arm.  

Unfortunately, however, I was too scared, confused and afraid to do anything but stand there and cry; thus, as my father continues to yell at me to take my baby brother, the neighbor next door shows up and takes the 3 month old from Dad’s arms after which my father jumps out the window himself.  However, he was still very mad at me for “failing to take responsibility for his brothers..”   this was something I heard every day until I was about 12, which was about the same time we moved from Quincy to Thurlow.

05.30.2008

In addition to the fire, my Dad had a bad car accident shortly after the fire on the exact same day as my baby sister was born and, to this day, I can recall bits and pieces of that entire scene which landed the entire family in the hospital. Then, in 1968, the year my father was promoted into his sales role (the same year as the 6th child was born), he does a dumb thing by trying to start my Mom’s old car by pushing it down a hill and then tripping the clutch.  

Curious what he was going to do, I took a seat in the front yard and watched as the car got moving at a good clip down the hill; then, as my father goes to jump in the car and trip the clutch, he realizes the doors are locked and he can’t find his keys. Therefore, with several neighborhood kids around, he gets in front of the car to stop a 1963 Ford 500; once he realizes he cannot stop it, he yells at everyone and takes a big dive to get away from the car.  However, he didn’t dive (or jump) far enough and the car ran over his legs.

The 6 kids, the fire, the bad accident and then Dad getting run over were things openly discussed by the adults as some sort of Irish curse.  Simultaneously, if you look at the one picture of me (> 1 year old) with Dad and my Great-Grandmother, my father was rail thin at that time, he looked almost gaunt yet, by the mid-60’s (when he forces me into little league which I hated and was awful at), he’s a pudgy overweight man (which was the highest weight he ever weighed).  According to Mom, many decades later, she stated that the first ten years of their marriage was the worst; Dad was downright scary and I didn’t know how much until the first time I stayed at a friend’s home.  

Mom admitted to me that during those years my father drank martini’s every night and then get angry.  She attributes his heavy weight at that time to the drinking which, as I learned later in life, was known among friend and family as was the things he’d say to me. On many occasion, he’d get angry with me while someone outside the family was present and witnessed what was being said to me.  

06.01.1990

“God is not willing to do everything, and thus take away our free will and that share of glory which belongs to us” – Niccolo Machiavelli

My early formative years were not all that happy; I was teased a lot in school, I woke up afraid and went to sleep fearful, I didn’t get great grades and I came home right after school to be Mom’s helper.  Aside from that, I did lots and lots of praying; usually I prayed for my parents, grandparents and siblings; but, I also prayed a lot to feel safe, to do good in school, to be well liked and to make these weird feelings inside of me to go away (that last one was continuous).

During middle school, 13, is when I first began to push back on the horrendous things/names he would call me such as “you’re worthless, you’ll never amount to anything, you’re a failure, you disgust me, you are an embarrassment to your mother, we’re ashamed to have to call you our son”; however, the most commonly expressed sentiment that hurt the most was “why the hell can’t you be more like Tim and Pat” – which is the sole reason (I believe) he stated that  was an embarrassment.  Simultaneously, having been forced up to that point to “take responsibility for your siblings”, I also expressed sentiments about issues impacting them which was the point where my father didn’t want me to  have any part of taking care of my siblings.  

Since the ONLY positive reinforcement I ever received was my helping Mom take care of the house and my siblings, I now felt that I had no role within the family whatsoever.  My father no longer had any use for me other than as a punching bag and someone he was “ashamed” of.  As an adult who’s spent decades in therapy, this transitional period within the family. Not realizing how much my home life was affecting my mental health, I began to have extreme problems with my stomach – especially after eating; therefore, I wasn’t eating much and felt like crap.  Thus, at 14, entering my freshmen year of high school (1973), the family pediatrician diagnosed me with a Peptic Ulcer and then took my Mother to his office.  

Curious to know what the heck was going on, I crept up to the door and listened as the doctor (obviously familiar with the family dynamics) told my Mother that “you need to find a different home for Mike to live in, at least for a while, or I’ll admit him as a psych patient but he’s not to go back to the same environment”

Thus, shortly thereafter, I went to live with the Wilson’s.  When I did finally return, I was now 6 foot and, after John’s Mom (a Shrink) coached me to express my feelings and emotions, is when the worst of the fights and arguments Dad and I took place.  I was not “as scared” of him, I knew

(if I had to) I could fight back and I’d also learned to always sit near an exit so that when/if he did explode, I could run which I did.

07.23.1999

My Favorite Kid Memories!

My relationship with my maternal grandfather was quite special.  While it really didn’t start until I was about 12, it was the first (and, at the time only) relationship I had outside of the immediate family; and, given how the first 13 – 14 years of my life my Mother was pre-occupied with the younger children to even know what I was doing much of the time.  Therefore, when Pop-Pop asked me (his eldest grandchild) if I wanted to spend the day with him I jumped at the chance and, as a result, some of my most favorite childhood memories were my time with him.

When we were very young, Pop Pop didn’t want anything to do with this ever increasing posy of grandkids that would take over his home; I remember him on those Sunday nights when Nana got inspired and cooked a huge Sunday night dinner for 20+ (when both the Brachle’s and the Russell’s would attend).  Those were treasured memories of Nana.

It was presumably pre-1970 when these dinners “routinely” occurred; Nana had a large nice dining room table (that was usually piled under a bunch of boxes and other crap).  However, when she got inspired and went all out, she and Pop would sit at the heads of a table with more than a dozen young grandchildren scattered about); these events took place, as at least I recall, after a Sunday afternoons at the Polo Fields (a place we older kids considered our playground on Sunday afternoons).  

It was not unusual for us to spend a couple Sunday afternoons a month playing at the Polo fields while the adults watched the games; and that took place because one of their classmates from St. Isaac Jogues (where all of us attended school the first 8 years of our education) was a jockey.

In fact, I was a baby-sitter/friend of the family to Jackie and the boys (which is precisely the point of this story), because Pop Pop decided that he wanted to get to know and hang out with his eldest grandson.  Therefore, from about 1971 – 1973 (12 -13 for me, Pop Pop would pick me up after school, or on the weekends, and we’d go to the family’s farm.  In fact, it was those stables where he and his buddy taught me to ride a horse; other times he needed to run an errand and would leave me with Jackie Murphy and her boys at the family’s plush pool grounds.  

Since few individuals used the pool, whenever Pop Pop picked me up I took a towel and swimsuit and usually met up with the Murphy’s at the pool.  We’d done this “paling around” thing for two summers in a row (Pop Pop wanted a connection with his eldest grandchild before he died); and, even upon his passing, the Murphy family would come to Goldview Hills/Quincy St., pick me up and take me with them out to the farm to ride horses and swim; it was a great scape for me to get away from home and the Murphy family parents (jack and Jackie) felt comfortable leaving their sons with me at the pool so they could attend to other things on the farm.  After all, I knew how to swim and their two sons were 3 and 5 years younger than I while I was 10 & 11 at that time.

However, my very most favorite story of Pop Pop (who was the ultimate Archie Bunker) occurred when I asked to go to McDonalds that day and he said ok.    Having been there many times before, I grabbed his hand and went to the counter where I learned that this was his very first time inside a McDonald’s or any other fast food establishment.  It was as if he was stoned, he starred at everything as a child walking into a play room of sorts.  It’s a very fond memory of him.

When we went out, we went to Polo games, hung out at the jockey’s bar and remained a man about town with everyone within the Polo industry.  While Pop Pop was not directly in Polo, he had worked for (and was very good friends with) the family that owned everything, the Polo Fields, the players and the vase real estate (which employed Pop Pop but I have no idea in what capacity)

Since both Nana’s and Grandma’s houses sold in late 1971, the same year we moved to Thurlow St. in Feb of that same year, we inherited much furniture from both of those sales.  Fortunately, however, we had one summer where we could easily ride our bikes to either Nana’s or Grandma’s and, since they were in the process of cleaning out every crevice from their homes, as a 11 or 12 year old kid, I was helping them to pack and clean for many months.  

I don’t really know about the other kids but, as the eldest, Dad would offer me up every time someone moved or needed help and I never received a dime for all my work until I sought it out for myself at 14 and 15.  During the time that Dad loaned me out to help his friends, I recall helping the Burgers move twice (to/from Downers Grove), the Murphy’s to Clarendon Hills, the Rezeks, and a few families from church.

Nevertheless, for that one summer in 1971, both sets of grandparents were a mile away and I remember being quite happy on my bike one day that I now had somewhere to go when Dad was yelling, screaming and chasing me. Funny how I was so young but I can recall some incidents and events so well – especially those that involved me J-  what else am I going to remember?  I guess I remember these situations so well is that they were happy and joyful experiences where Dad was nowhere to be found and people treated me with such kindness – which happened rarely and even more seldom post-1971.

12.04.2004 – my 46th birthday!

I remember my father sitting me down on many Sunday evenings to more-or-less threaten me to take responsibility for my siblings after I get out of school. I also recall being picked on, beat up and made fun of by other kids (for having no self-esteem whatsoever), as well as my father who used the same repetitive phrases to describe me as “worthless, never amount to anything, an embarrassment to Mom and Dad and not worthy of their love; but the one that hurt the most and, thus was said most often: Why the hell can’t you be more like Tim and Pat?’ (the most frequent phrase my father uttered; I still recall vividly the last time it was said to me and how upset at my father I became.  I’d just completed my freshmen year of college).

As I’ve learned over the years, most-to-all of Mom & Dad’s friend’s, as well as Uncle Chuck & Aunt Jackie, witnessed first-hand Dad’s verbal and emotional abuse referring to me as a “disappointment, lazy, stupid, irresponsible…” which was never something I felt the entire family needed to know about…  it embarrassed me immensely and something I prayed about for years.

Mom & Dad’s “first 10 years” was something that their friends, our neighbors and the extended family were all part of, knowledge of and worried for; all of these parties  became very worried for both of my parents.  During this period Dad’s weight shot up to 50 – 60#’s.  And, while I felt that something strange was going on from time to time.  Simultaneously, I’m trying to remain safe…  I would do my best to avoid him altogether.  

08.23.1995 My Teen Years                                                                                    

Because of the amount of stress and anxiety I was under in my early teens, I began to experienced stomach aches/pain so bad that I couldn’t eat or even walk some of the time. In fact, I started missing school because it; therefore, as she often did as I had other health challenges and very bad allergies as a kid, Mom took me to Dr. Tracy.  And, when Dr. Tracy concluded I had a peptic ulce, he took Mom behind a closed door (which I, of course, listened to through the door). Dr. Tracy said “we need to do something today!”  “why today my Mother asked?”  “Because I don’t want Michael going back to the house at this time”  Dr. Tracy said: “you have two options:

2.    You can find a place for Mike to stay for a while or I

3.    will admit him to the pediatric psych ward”

At that point they both came out of his office to talk with me and, given what I’d heard and was told, I knew that Dr. Tracy knew that I was not in a healthy environment and I believe Mom all but confirmed it for him.  What I remember most from that talk was a sense of “ease” and of “less-ness” or a weight being lifted.  

I didn’t have to go home but where would I go...   the hospital was the last place I wanted to go.  Thus, while Wilson and I hadn’t been friends long, I sensed his P.hD. Mother knew a lot of what was going on; thus, she was very supportive and encouraging of me. Long story short, I went to live with the Wilson’s for about a month during which time I saw a Shrink (once) and, truthfully not wild about going home but I felt I had to (even though, later on, I lived with the Wilson’s on and off for years).

§  During my time with other families, which I had a lot of early-on, I explained to my Shrink that I “count and obsess a lot more when I’m at home and I’m able to do my homework easier somewhere else” (my concentration is better away from home….) Most of all, I’m fearful much of the time at home and that fear influences other things.

08.01.1998

In a life-time of living with ADD and OCD, the main “coping” method(s) I developed (after seeing that Shrink one-time) was to take the people apart from the situation; get to know people and not get real close to just one or two people but many as possible.  My main method has always been the same (and HEAVILY influenced by Barbara Wilson P.hd. Psychology) is to be open & honest with everyone (model the right behaviors).  While I could fill a library with the number of companies in which I developed some form or durative of open and honest communication.  

In fact, of the probably 100 Employee Handbooks I’ve written the past 30 years, each/everyone starts with setting a cultural tone by stating “if/when there’s ever an issue or problem, your first point of contact is your manager to engage in an open and honest dialogue.

10.10.1993

Saved My Life: During my freshmen year of high school, which was the first time I was not enrolled in a Catholic school, I was fortunate to have fallen in with a group of kids that were somewhat diverse (although, the word diverse in Hinsdale meant red hair; I didn’t meet any person of color until College); within this group were John Wilson and Bruce del Solar whom I began to take road trips with to Morris, IL. Milwaukee, WI and, for every Christmas Holiday from 1975 – 1984, we loaded up both our downhill and cross country skis and headed to the Wilson’s cabin in White Hall, MI.

Early on in our friendship, I came to realize that both of these guys possessed a great deal of compassion, integrity and kindness; I also more-or-less bonded with their respective Mothers, actually parents.  Given that John’s Mom was a Psychologist I’ve told every therapist I’ve seen since that Barbara Wilson was my first therapist.  While I never spoke of the details of what transpired between my father (since I didn’t want to admit to a single soul of the cruel, hurtful and awful things he would say to me consistently; in part, because there was a big part of me that believed what I’d been told during my childhood).

10.17.1993

Both John and Bruce’s Mother’s loved me and I loved them; they always stated, professed and modeled behaviors towards me that were supportive, positive, reaffirming, trusting, respectful and credible. Whether their son(s) were home or not, I would sit with their Mom’s, drink coffee and talk about life’s goals, disappointments and their support for who and what I was.   And, at that time, who and what I was a friend, a friend to their son.

Both Mothers were also incredible intuitive; they’d raised their sons in a more permissible environment than mine and they knew that their son(s) “if left to their own devices” may not always made the best choices.  Moreover, in the mid-70’s there was no such thing as MADD or any PSA re: drinking and driving; and, as minor with a penchant for pushing limits, drinking beer and smoking marijuana was a regular weekend activity.  On occasion, the limits were pushed even further.

John, Bruce and their respective Mothers were glad that I was present for our trips and weekend festivities.  With the imprint of “being responsible” practically tattooed to my head, I drove anywhere we went 90% of the time; my sense of direction was always better than anyone else’s.  Evidentially, my father’s continual push for me to “take responsibility” was deeply engrained by the time I was a teenager.

Additionally, I often partook in the partying atmosphere less than my friends as it was important for me to stay in control; therefore, I consistently made sure that everyone got home safe and sound and, when certain activities might appear to be getting out of control, the guys listened to me when I said that something was “not a good idea” or “it’s time to go home.”  I won’t go so far as to say that I kept us all out of trouble; but, our group did need someone to take responsibility, whether it be driving or not partaking in certain activities, so that the larger group had a “Mother” if you will J-

11.02.1993

In any event, while it was never stated, their Mom’s knew that I would take care of their sons if/when they got out of control which, at that age, was something that did occur on occasion.  In fact, there are many, many stories of me taking the lead; for example: when, during one ski trip, I was sick and tired of being told I was an old granny when it came to driving and that, even though it was snowing like crazy, the friend in the back seat criticized me constantly for how slow I was going; therefore, I pulled over and say “ok, you drive!” and, within minutes, we were sliding/skidding sideways down the interstate as everyone in the vehicle was screaming.  

Once we landed (surprising safely) in a huge snow bank within the median on the hwy., the first car to come upon us was a cop. Given that things were going on in the backseat that weren’t exactly legal, everyone immediately got out and stuffed anything they could into the 6’ snow drifts all around the car. Meanwhile, I took the lead with the cop telling him we were all ok, that we were headed north to ski.  Since the car (Bruce’s family’s Chevy Suburban) was surrounded by deep snow on three sides, it appeared that we’d be going nowhere fast; nevertheless, the cop got out and, with the 5 guys we had in the suburban, they were miraculously able to push us/me (since I was now driving again) out of the snowbank.  Suffice it to say, I drove the entire rest of the trip.

12.02.1993

The first time I lived with the Wilson’s it was shortly after I was diagnosed with the peptic ulcer (circa 1974/75) and, by the time I was a freshmen in college, I’d lived with both families for extended periods of time.  Accordingly, not only was I viewed as responsible, hardworking and very kind, no one was ever critical or had a problem with anything I did or said and, more than anything, I (for the first time) felt safe when I’d wake up in del Solars guest room.

The truth is, if not for the continuous influence, positive reinforcement, unconditional love and never-ending compassion of these two families, I know that I would be dead today (and would have been dead since my early 20’s).  Absent any approval, positive reinforcement, frequent affirmations, ongoing respect and unconditional love, I would have gone off and become a drug addict, or worse. I had zero self-confidence when I met these two families and, to my surprise, they believed that I was an honest, forthright, open, kind, considerate and loving kid that was in need of compassion, acceptance and respect.

Everything I’d been told up to this point in my life was negative, critical and even condescending yet, with the support of these families, I saw a real future for the first time in my life.

BTW - While seeing my first “real” therapist (following the first disasterous therapy sessions I had in grad school at Marquette’s University psych counseling center -  of a Catholic institution - where I was told to “deny your feelings, don’t think about it, don’t give into it, it’s a sin.”), he/Mark had guided me through the “coming out” process (when I was 25/26) whereby I told my family (with books, periodicals and other resources that, to this day, I never saw again) and my friends.  My friends (namely Bruce, John and their respective families) were my greatest worry; and, to my surprise, my friends were instantly my greatest support mechanism now and then.

That said John’s Mom, the psychologist, and I grew to be quite close when I stayed with them often in high school and then lived with them for an entire year of college.  During that year of college, with John, his brother and his Dad gone, it was John’s Mom and I much of the time, thus, we had many, many talks yet - this was a time - when I didn’t know for sure that I was even gay.  However, while she laid dying in a nursing home in 1984 (a few years before I’d “come out”), she had a conversation about me with John, her son, which I wasn’t aware of at the time.

FOOTNOTE: When I did finally come out to John (Circa 1986), I was somewhat surprised that he didn’t know and absolutely thrilled that he didn’t care so long as I was happy yet - as I told him - he got choked up and teary eyed and said “OMG, this is what she meant!”  In reply I said “what the heck are you talking about??”  John replied that, on his Mother’s death bed, she told him that “there’s something about Mike that you will need to support him in and accept.  It will be difficult time for Mike but you’ll need to be there for him.”

At the time John’s Mom said this (and nothing more) to him, he was dumbfounded and didn’t give it a whole lot of thought; however, once I told John I was gay, a light bulb went off and he got choked up.  As John told me what his Mother had said I too got all choked up.  I’d realized that she knew I was gay well before anyone else (including me) but, being the psychologist that she was, she knew the precise was to handle it and, in doing so, how best to prepare my best friend, her son, John.  WOW!

08.11.1991

As a teenager, my behavior and conduct was a direct result (or rather payback) for those years on Quincy Street.  I fully admit that I said some awful things to my Mother i.e. “why the hell do you stay married to this tyrant?”

§  I said many hurtful things to Mom during my high school years and I deeply regret that and even apologized to her for it. My hope that when I did apologize in my mid-20’s that it would serve as a first step to the open and honest dialogue I pushed to have with her for the following 3+ decades to no success.

I fully admit that, as I got older and wasn’t as threatened by Dad’s size and authority, when he went off the rails and started going off on me or something else, I’d speak up;  I even, at times, went so far as to push his button when I knew he was unable to reach me.  However, because I’d always been labeled as lying, no one ever supported me or took my side.

Prior to the Ulcer, I tried to do everything to not be noticed by Dad but, by 14, I was almost as tall as him.  Things changed in the new house, I was bigger, much more aware of being trapped and of how not to…   this lead to a lot of chasing which led to the disowning and kicking out (3 times total: once for bringing up a criticism of the catholic church; the second for spilling small amount of paint I spilled while painting the garage door and the 3rd time was “you live under my house, it’s my rules…”   I think he must have hated the fact that not only did everyone know he threw me out but anyone I went to would have offered me a bed.

One thing was a huge wake up call for me! During the months and year I lived in both the del Solar and Wilson homes I learned that I was not the cause of the fighting.  Instead, I was valued, listened to, encouraged, affirmed and believed to be a bright, capable, honest and responsible young man which is why both Bruce, John and their respective families knew, if the guys were out with me that I was the the responsible one who would ensure that each person got home safe and sound.

As even the guys will confess, we know that a high power was with us much of the time because, even though I did take on the role of Mother to the two of them much of the time, we took unnecessary risks in retrospect and, while inexperienced youths are part of the equation, this was BEFORE anyone had any sort of “driving while drunk educational campaigns.  You can ask anyone over 55 what their, and societies attitudes, were about drinking and driving.  In short, there were none, nor did the cops enforce it.

06.22.2007

First major depressive episode was sophomore year in high school; I was diagnosed with a Peptic Ulcer and Dr. Tracy was intuitive enough to know what my home scene was like. While the doctor didn’t know that I was eavesdropping his dialogue with my Mother as they went into another room but I recall vividly what he said to her: “you either need to find another place for Mike to reside for a while or I will admit him into the psych ward for his well-being.  

§  After the visit with the doctor, I brought the conversation up with my Mom in the car and told her that I had a standing invitation to stay with the Wilson’s anytime I want; it’s very close to school and his Mom is a Shrink on top of it (his mother was inspirational; I could discuss anything with her yet she seemed to know things before I ever disclosed them).

Thus, Mom agreed and I headed over to the Wilson’s.  This was the first time I stayed away from home for a while, the other times occurred later when Dad would through me out and disowned me, the choice was to hospitalize me, or remove me from my parents home – went to stay with my best friend in Wisconsin.

§  Father drinking was still quite bad when I was a teenager… irrational behavior.  He resented my interference is his judgment – especially as it related to discipline with my siblings as I would get between him and whoever he was mad at. Also, family pattern of my father hating his oldest brother and me being the eldest son.   Generally, it was after the second Martini that things went sour.  Moreover, anything I may have mentioned about the past was aggressively discredited as my lying.

Consequently, my father threw me out of the house my Junior and Senior years of high school and then again, after only a few weeks, upon my return from my freshmen year of college (which was the last time I ever lived there again); when he threw me out, he forbid me from returning and claimed to “disown” me twice.

§  The first time I had spilled paint on the garage floor when I was 16 so I went to live with my friend John’s family;

§  The second time was more serious, I was 18 and had to live with Bruce’s family for several months my senior year.  The reason for that occasion was due to the fact that I questioned Catholicism so I was beat up, kicked out and disowned for a second time.

§  Each/every time I was living at home, or not, if/when my name ever came up my father would do nothing but bad mouth me and call me a “rotten kid.”  Therefore, my siblings grew up believing everything Dad said “Mike was a rotten kid”; the younger they were the more I was gone and the more they heard these types of things about me.  Everything was my fault, especially when it came to any fights or arguments in the house whether I was home or not.

§  I never even thought that I had an actual father; instead, it was as if he was a Warden to be feared and avoided, which is precisely what I and my brother did.

01.01.2015

“The greater the difficulty, the more glory in surmounting it” – Epicurus

I respect the response above; however, it’s in direct conflict with my memories (between the fact my sister was the eldest daughter who could do no wrong and I was someone that my father openly condemned and ridiculed in front of other people who have expressed their concern for me as a kid and would invite you to do things where you’d be gone when your Father was home.

This explains so much because, as a Kid (11 – 14), I began being invited on different family outings, cookouts and even 3 or 4 vacations for me to allegedly “baby-sit” yet I did what the family did i.e. golf for the first 2nd, 3rd, 4th time(s) etcs..  Obviously, dealing with real feelings at this time of my life was virtually impossible ( i.e. being diagnosed with a Peptic Ulcer in 1973 @ 14 years old).  

I was a rolled up ball of mess and they all saw it and tried to do what they could. While I was living in Chicago in the years preceding our parents lives, I got to really connect with Mom and Dad’s old friends and they, like Uncle Church, they felt comfortable enough to tell me how they were concerned for me…

Influenced by church services and motivated by finding methods to better cope with the stressors in life, I’ve picked up on some of the teachings that could be of great benefit to me including the following: 

“Pray that you would release your burdens and anxiety to God and embrace the peace He wants you to experience. “Don’t fret or worry. Instead of worrying, pray. Let petitions and praises shape your worries into prayers, letting God know your concerns. Before you know it, a sense of God’s wholeness, everything coming together for good, will come and settle you down. It’s wonderful what happens when Christ displaces worry at the center of your life.” Philippians 4:6-7 MS

AND:

“Pray that you would not be ruled by a spirit of fear or anxiety. “For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love and self-discipline.” 2 Timothy 1:7