My journey starts like most others. Born a fool with infinite possibilities, and an  eagerness to learn about the world and its mysteries. Being molded by experiences and expectations. However, my days as a wondrous fool didn't last. Most would call it “part of growing up,” transforming the Fool into things like the immature Magician as they grow older. But every journey follows a different path. My fool-hood was transformed into a life of emotional endurance soon after I turned eight. From eight to fourteen I was victim to a single instance of mental abuse. Playing the nightmare over and over and

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OVER…

 

and…

 

OVER…

 

and Over and Over and over andoverandoverandover. Again and again, without fail, I endured the nightmare. Sleepless nights for an entire year. Invention of friends to keep me sane and a profound way to keep my nightmares at bay. Beneath the Emperor’s mask laid my nightmare. I desperately tried to control my fear by holding onto a seed of hope; nurturing it for a better future. 

 

XVI The Tower

Awaken to cataclysm. Can one endure the chaos?

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      You see, on a car ride to someplace with my dad and younger brother — I was complaining about my dad's girlfriend again. She was the one who planted the repetition of endless nightmares within me. Her words of making my life "A Living Hell" rang true despite her inaction since that dreaded day. 

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      I was eight; watching TV with my brother during a stormy day. But while we were watching my brother rushed into the bathroom and began puking into a nearby toilet. My heart began to beat fast as adrenaline got distributed through my body. I panicked, I ran all around the house looking for my Dad’s girlfriend. She was nowhere to be found. No amount of shouting would reveal her position to me. A violent thunder rumbled the house signaling me to dial my dad at work.

 

      His voice turned to annoyance with a slight tinge of anger when he heard the situation. He told me he would call our neighbors and request assistance from them while he left work. He was about 2 hours away from home. The neighbors came, assisted my brother, and gave him some medicine then putting him to bed. As they were leaving my dad’s girlfriend came out from her bedroom confused. She thanked the neighbors and I went back to watching TV. But a few minutes later she came into the room and stood in front of the TV. I didn’t think much of it until she started screaming. Her screech rang through my ears as she yelled never to ever do that again. To embarrass her in front of our neighbors because of her irresponsibility. She ended it this confrontation by declaring she’ll make my life

 "A LIVING HELL"

 

      My dad said he agreed with me. Buttered me up and ended my yelling with a seed of hope. "When you get to high school, or we move, I'll kick her out if you still feel this way about her." 

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      I had a goal now. There I learned to hold onto that seed, nurture it, and just endure this pain until the seed blooms into a bright future of happiness. I became a hermit, holding only one true friend at a time, and even they wouldn't come to know the extent of my pain. They were blind just as I was to this façade of hope. That seed's roots spread deep in my body gripping my heart tightly with a relief of hope. 

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      I should’ve noticed the seeds sprouting were coated with lies, thorns that embedded themselves into my lungs and heart. Each meeting we had as a “whole family” including his girlfriend only fueled my anger. We’d sit at our dining room table. I always sat next to my younger brother opposite of my dad while his girlfriend sat on the sidelines. Dad would try to soften the next blow by trying to show me her perspective, having the gall to say “maybe I’m partly to blame” followed by an emotional apology from his girlfriend. Tears rolled down her eyes as she apologized, but each word she said, dropped me back to that night. I felt the terror, the thorns piercing my vitals, and adrenaline pumped through me. Fight or Flight engaged, and I was going to fight. I threw out her apology. I screamed about the nightmares she caused me. I wore myself out in a blazing anger of hate. 

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Fall into the deep abyss of despair when the masks are peeled away.

     

      Nothing changed. We had two more meetings similar to this and nothing changed. She was still here, she was still acting like hot shit while my dad wasn’t around. She would still order us around like there was nothing wrong. I had to follow orders or be punished by Dad. I bottled up my emotions, inflating my heart and lungs into the thorns of a misguided hope. I was questioning whether my dad was really doing this to his own flesh and blood. 

 

      2010, I'm twelve turning thirteen soon. My grades are tanking for the first time in my life. They're barely hanging on by a thread. I was sick a lot and could barely keep up with the sheer amount of homework. My best friend lived in another state, and I only had one other friend to rely on but never felt comfortable disclosing my despair too. On a trip back from my Ma's house, I was alone again with my dad and younger brother. When we got southbound on I-25 from Castle Rock Colorado, my dad told me he had News. Didn't say good or bad, but I was excited to hear it. 

     

      "Ms. Marty and I are married."

 

      Hearing those words leave my father’s mouth was concerning. The last few years flashed before my eyes as anxiety filled my body. I felt light headed and the metal walls of the car began to close in around me. My brother and father were now stretching away from me as this car encased itself around me. It- it couldn't be true, My dad would never lie to his own flesh and blood. I tried to push this out of my mind, but the nightmare pulled me out of that claustrophobic horror and placed me into one I had experience with. My brother would snap me out of this when he said we were home. I shook off the nightmare and resumed wearing my mask as if nothing was said during the drive home and my dad was making a sick joke. Little did I know that was just the setup, the punch line has yet to set in. 

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      Next weekend there was a big dinner. My entire family on my Father's side attended to celebrate the newlyweds. It was the first time I saw my Grandma pay for a dinner instead of my Grandpa. 

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      The flower of hope revealed its true colors as its thorns punctured my heart, squeezing until it shattered. I couldn't reach my goal. My only true goal, my reason for pushing onward with this torture.

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      Its summer, I graduated middle school, and I'm sitting on the toilet next to my bathtub filling it with water. I was alone, both physically, and mentally. I had no one to rely on. No goal to keep me pushing. I was lost. I wanted someone's embrace, someone to take me away from this reality. I wanted to be taken away from this truth of reality. I knew one thing that was accepting of everyone no matter the life they lived. She would welcome them with open arms as she serenaded those to a better world. A key was needed for her to come however, and I held one such key in my arms. The bathtub was full. I gripped the toaster in my arms as I looked into the tub that would transport me to her. I looked into the toaster reflection of me. Hair recently cut, and for once, no visible acne infesting my face. My mind played her tune, a lullaby for eternal slumber. Reflection was the only thing I could do before inserting my key. 

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What a joke we lived.

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"You're telling me."

 

We really going through with it?

 

"Can we think of anything better?"

 

Yeah, someone we neglected as an older brother.

 

"He'll be fine."

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Really? He hates her almost as much as we do because of what she's done to us.

 

"And?"

 

Do we really want to be hated more than he hates her? More than we hate her?

 

"He'll be fine."

 

We'll be abandoning him.

 

"..."

 

He doesn't deserve this. He doesn't deserve to be stuck with her. But we can ease that suffering instead of adding to it.

 

"… how?"

 

Just put the toaster away, and live for him.  

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XIII Death

Trapped in a chrysalis. There's only one way out. Will one have the resolve to set themselves free?

 

      New school. I'm enrolling at a high school closer to home and I start the semester off learning of an old friend's death. Missed the funeral. Apparently, he had an undetectable heart disease, so when he fell off his skate board he had a heart attack and died. I was already emotionally confused —  I couldn't stand to bear with my own baggage and now someone else has added to the weight I carried. But I couldn't cry. I wanted too, I oh so wanted to shed the tears of grief, but my eyes were as dry as the Colorado air that accompanied them. School took priority though, no time for grieving. I continued school as normal, carrying the weight. Shutting myself off from everyone. Even my best friend from 4th grade, who moved back to Colorado, was shut out. I would keep carrying this burden alone until the final Week of October 2012.

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      First Class, English, I think I'm failing but I'm so exhausted I don't care. Figments of my nightmare were becoming part of my reality rather than just a distraction. We had a warm-up exercise writing about the time we had to make a life altering decision. Yes, I did write about my suicide dilemma. I'm not sure if it can be called an attempt, but either way, I wrote about my decision to not go through with it and the reasons why. I didn't talk about why I felt the need to do such an act. It felt strangely comforting writing that down but it would wind me into a room with a councilor where I discussed my home history. I told her about my nightmares, my broken heart, and the emptiness within me. I told her about the friend that I couldn't cry about when I heard the news. I told her how I couldn't trust my father anymore after breaking my heart. I told her I didn’t feel safe at home, with friends, and especially alone.

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      Numbers don't lie. They are pure fact, with specific rules with a variety so vast it is unmatched by anything in this world we will ever know. Growing up I liked math, I was in a junior level math class in 8th grade, Algebra 2. I took comfort in the numbers, understanding them was simple and they couldn't lie to me. Well until the weight of despair came crashing upon my mind causing only quotes and voice lines from shows and video games to really stick with me. 

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      My father arrived to the councilor's office. I was doing math homework for the past hour-ish after my talk with the councilor. When my father arrived the Campus Officer would soon enter as well. I now understood my situation a bit better. They talked, discussing plans about putting me under suicide watch at a mental hospital. I didn't expect to be at said hospital on the same day, let alone only a couple of hours after they finished their discussion. The Campus officer escorted me and my Father off the campus where it'd be about 30-40 minute car ride over to down town Colorado Springs where the mental hospital was. 

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      Once we arrived, I was interviewed privately by one of the head doctors.

 

"Logan correct?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Do you know why you're here?"

 

It's about the page we wrote huh

 

      "Not exactly. I just know that I talked with a councilor before my dad came, and they had a discussion, and now I'm here."

 

      Not exactly a lie but not the full truth either.

     

      "You're here because of past and possibly current suicidal tendencies that may be lurking inside your noggin."

 

       Oh boy, we get to discuss our past for the 2nd time today. Yippee. I sure love thinking about the past over and over again. 

 

       "Alright Logan I'm going to ask you some questions, and I want you to answer them as honestly as you can."

 

       "Alright"

 

       "The report I got from your councilor states that you have recurring nightmares."

 

       "Yes."

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       "How often do they occur?"

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       Does she mean recently, or the full history?

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        "Ehhh, two times a week, or whenever I hear that woman utter a single word."

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       "And who's the woman?"

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       "My Father's W-" Vomit's coming up "Wife."

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       "What did she do to you?"

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       "Made my life a 'Living Hell' for 'embarrassing' her. I was just trying to help my brother while that trash was nowhere to be found. Caused my own father to betray me."

 

       "How does that make you feel?"
 

       Insurmountable rage. "I was terrified for a year. I couldn't even get proper sleep. Now though? I'm worthless, I only continue because I don't want my little brother to suffer. I can't trust a single thing my father says because he lied about such an important topic. I wasn't worth the truth when he put the idea of a better future in my mind. He screwed me."

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       "How long have you felt the need to take your life?"

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       "2 Years"

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       "And how long have you had these nightmares?"

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       "6 years"

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       Wow, it has actually been 6 years huh? Nearly half our life.

 

       The interview went on and it was decided that I was to be put under watch for the next three days.

So I was put with the other children in the mental ward. We had a pretty big wing. Our room was right next to the Military Vets. There were 6 other kids here, 2 or 3 around my age and 3 younger children who couldn't be any older than 7. I was walked to what would be my room. They went through some basic rules like no shoes with laces, (So I didn't where them), no bed sheets, doors are to remain cracked open even while asleep, and school stuff like homework would stay locked behind a closet until needed. 

 

       That bed is literally a gym mat. Thicker by like 5 inches… but it’s a gym mat.

 

       My experience in the mental hospital was interesting. The nurses were very disconnected, not because they were cruel, but because they don't want to get attached. When you leave, they say "I hope I never see you again." When you leave you are hopefully on a better road to healing and not self-damage. If you are though, you wind up seeing them again, or with lady death. My societal mask cracked here. This was a place that I felt true safety in a long time. Recognizing others with similar suicidal problems was reassuring. Someone I eventually roomed with during my stay at the hospital was regularly bullied. He poured his heart out to me rather quickly, something I wasn't accustomed too. Which in turn helped me trust in him to do the same. The mask I wore for nearly half my life was finally shattered. I didn't feel the need to control my emotions, my fear, my sadness, my grief. I didn't need to disguise the wounds with rage and hate, I could finally tear myself away from the mask and just accept myself.

 

XII The Hanged Man

How does the world look upside down from that tree?

 

       After the Mental hospital there was time spent looking for a proper therapist who could help my father and I work out some issues. After a month of looking we found one in down town Colorado Springs. She showed me a way of relieving stress through writing. She demonstrated how not to let emotions build up, how to get them off your chest. She planted a seed that would develop into a passion. I learned to tolerate triggers for my PTSD, I learned how to forgive. But I understand that I can't forgive everything that's happened to me. But I'm not held down by it either. I've learned to move on with my life. 

 

       I remember around this time I heard a quote that I try to live by now. "Everyone has a story to tell but not an ear to listen." I didn't have anyone I felt like I could talk to growing up. I felt alone and carried that burden until my mental grasp on realty was shattering. I don't want others to share that same pain or walk down that all too familiar road. When I have an opportunity, whether it be with friends or strangers, my door is always open to lend an ear. Lips will remain sealed, pens won't be moved, and no magnets will be mimicking the same vibrations.

 

       Pessimism turned into Optimism, and Idealistic realism became a strange nihilism. Hearing a few stories and looking back on my own I learned to accept a part of life that I can’t change. I can’t change the faults of my dad, so I had to learn to move on. The easiest way for me was accepting nihilism. Optimistic nihilism is an interesting combination. You don’t feel held back by consequence nor are you bothered by what life may throw at you. You do what you want with the understanding that this is the one life you get. I spend it now doing what I enjoy, watching the world around me, taking in its stories, and reflecting upon myself with those I hold dear.

 

       People are interesting. Listen to them and you learn how much small things really bother them. Context might be missing form why it's bothering them so I don't judge them on it. A lot of the time it's just the final straw. Things just effect everyone differently. 

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       People are like numbers. Not that they are just a fact that follow rules, but that they have such a variety that I will never know them all. Sometimes you see numbers in a completely new light like 12. Growing up it was just a multiple of 2,3,4 and 6. But now it represents my turn, my time to reflect, my time to take hold of my life. I’m here because I choose to be. I choose to wear the broken shackles that once bound me to a mask of lies. I wear them proudly to show that I moved on.