During my recovery from incest and sexual abuse, Janie's Got A Gun, by one of my all time favorite groups Aerosmith, had a super video and the song, Janie's Got A Gun. Within seconds of hearing it for the first time it became an anthem for my alters and I. Another song that was a powerful anthem was Everything's Gonna Be Alright, by Naughty By Nature. I remember taking the long way home after group listening to this tune loudly and screaming as loud as I could.
As a child, teen, and young adult I held and had in my hand's three different hand guns. No, I don't know specifics as to whether they were .22's or .38's. For a boy pissed at the world and his perpetrators it really didn't matter, I was holding a weapon that I was hoping and so thinking about using.
I have had many a contemplations on the "what if's" with respect to these weapons. Where would I be? What would have happened to me? I would have been found innocent because I was an innocent, who was forced upon a sexual way of life way to young in my life. Was taught the do's and don'ts of male on male sexual abuse. Taught male on male sex! Taught? Taught?
One of the hand guns, I stole from my dear Abuela Mary. That was the first gun in my hands. My poor Grandmother was horrified and she knew the bee line pointed to me. My family and I lived immediately across the street from her here in Tampa, so she walked across, walked into my room where I was reading and asked for it. Just like that. No screaming - no drama, but I think that was the first time I made my Abuela cry. It haunts me to this day that she cried. She wrapped it in one of her scraves, put it in her purse, gave me a kiss and made me promise I would never do it again. I promised. At the time, I was younger than ten years of age. She never ever told anybody...
...it did not become a topic of conversation until a year or so ago. She really never fuckin' told...
...the purpose of stealing the gun was to use it. Either on one of the perpetrator's, all of who lived with-in 200 steps from my front door, or myself. I repeat, there were three of my perpetrators ALL with-in a 200 foot distance of my bedroom. If not for my Abuela Mary's swift notice and observastion it would have been used. I knew I was going to shoot somebody that evening.
Oh yes, remember I shared how my Uncle Chester and Cousin Joe, taught me how to shoot a rifle as a pre-teen. I was a quick learner for sure. Yes, while practicing and shooting, there were faces on whatever it was we were using for target practice...
...that too is a weapon.
The second hand gun I held in my hands belonged to one of the perpetrators I wrote of a few months ago. He had given it me after I had done "favors" for him in his parents house. He taught me shit little boy's DON'T need to know. Thinking of this, he is the one I have called, He-Who-Made-Me-Hate-Baseball, because he was one, my father gave permission to take me to baseball practice and games...
...my perpetrator attended more games than my father, but there was a fee and tax for this transportation and attendance. Rapes and forced oral sex. Every practice - every game he attended were followed by the abuse. The MacFarlane Park is still there. Still straight across the baseball diamonds I played on and the very spot I was abused is still there under the same big old Oak Trees. Every so often, due to the routes of traffic to and from doctors or stores - we/I still have to pass by there. I can still remember the sight's and sounds sitting there in his car. Still remeber the scents of his cheap after shave and I can smell the baby powder on his junk.
The gun was a small one so it actually may have been a .22. His brother, one of the three perpetrators got home before I could get it to my house. Which if I had ran with it would have been less than 200 steps. I had the opportunity to "kill two birds with one stone" that day...
...the gun was loaded and it felt good in my hands. I had the pictures in my head moving at the speed of sound. I had the notion to shoot first He, and when when his brother got home I really felt my heart race. I HAD THE GUN AND THESE FUCKERS were defenseless. I saw the fear in the older one's eyes and the nervousness in perpetrator number two. I let them talk me into giving it back to them. When I did I handed it over barrel first. I knew what I was doing. Just what if?
The third time I held a gun in my hands was when I was in my early twenties. A neighbor-dash-friend, had given me a hand gun for protection. I was hanging with an element of our society that during the early 1980's was illeagl but damn it if I wasn't having some crazy irresponsible fun...
...anyway's, Frank lived across the street from Brenda and I, in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. Dude rode a motor bike and was a mean and tough sort if you were not in his circle. I may have had that weapon for two or three days. I remember I held it to my two temple's too many times and also pointed, resting the barrel in the direction of my penis. Touching the end of the barrel to my junk. Hell yes, it was a loaded weapon. I gave it back to Frank because I saw which direction I was headed. Quickly.
While in the U.S. Army, I held an M-16 and an M-60. I knew my M-16 and loved him sweetly. The M-60 was a monster and I mastered it. Oh yes, gernades. With this weapon, I was an Expert. Damn, I loved throwing them! I may have said once before, I threw it like a baseball. What a damn arm! If anything would have happened in the military it would have been while living in Germany where I was assaulted by the higher ranking NCO...
...BUT! Nothing ever happened! I never pulled the trigger when the weapon was pointed at a human...a perpetrator or even then, myself.
Myself?
I thank you Great Spirit, for sending your Angels to keep my trigger finger at ease and keep me from pulling it. You know my mind wasn't and hasn't been at ease for probably most my life...
...I know this is why I want to see me bleed.
I'm tired ya'll. I remember thinking I would be better off dead. Today, I WANT to live. I am not afraid of death or dieing, it's just not something I'm going to expedite...
...My Path, is paved differently and I'm headed in a direction that will assist me in being a healthier and more motivated Man.
Even with the all of this that has been said and shared, I want to bleed.
Bleed and smell the iron in my blood.
Everything's Gonna Be Alright...
p.s. Relations, please, please do not judge me and please don't hold my honesty against me. This is a snap shot of me and some of my life. This isn't cool and no, I'm not going to ask "why me". All I ask is that I not be judged.
That's all.
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