SMASH.

Since the spring, I have been having some bad dreams – to the point that I had to begin to talk about them. Growing up, I fought a lot, from the time I was young and probably until I was in my mid-20s. I had been remembering a fight, one that I had lost. That never really has ever bothered me before, I won some and I lost some. No big deal. But this one, this one wouldn’t leave me alone lately.

I used to deliver newspapers, and my route was fairly large – like over a hundred customers. I had to walk in a four or five block area, and there was this alley that I used to cut through while I was doing deliveries. I used to enjoy my time out of the house – school, newspapers – anything to stay out of that hellhole. I think I was around eight years old or so. One day, something happened. I remember walking through the alley, and then it was like my head exploded. SMASH!

What happened next, I have just been figuring out lately, with the help of a therapist. It took me a couple of days to get through it all, but I trusted him enough to let him hypnotize me, and help me to regress myself to past events. He pointed out to me later, that I had deep seated trauma, and inner child repression – his words, not mine. And what happens is that sometimes the events overtake the person’s life, or they emotions and memories go dormant.

The fight that I had mentioned wasn’t a fight at all. Some man who I don’t know to this day, was hiding in that alley, and he had hit me over the head with something. I awoke on the ground, and was in a fight. I guess. At least, that’s what I had remembered until recently. What I had remembered was some guy behind me, fighting me, choking me. No big deal.

As I remember it, in bits and pieces – I must have woke up during the attack – I began to fight back. He must have thought I was unconscious, or worse. I bit his arm, he was Caucasian – that’s all I know, I never did see his face. I remember the taste of something warm and metallic. He was choking me, and I fought. He must have panicked, because he got up and left me alone. He didn’t finish what he had started, and I just lay on the ground. When I got home, I said I had been in a fight. I got another beating, nothing new. I went to the basement, just to get away from everything, and to be by myself. I found my dad’s homemade wine. That was my ‘Aha!’ moment.

But, [and this is very important] he wasn’t fighting me. He was inside me, penetrating me. Up until now, this event had been off limits to me, there is no way that I wanted to recall or deal with it. I created my own reality, and taken together with other childhood traumas – left this one lost and stored in my memory. I created my own reality, booze shaped it, and so did my fears.  

Fear replaces the unknown with the known and the awful. Fear rose up and filled my heart with a horrible torrent of negativity – the perfect storm for addiction. Even though a lot of that wasn’t totally my fault, this was my reality. But drinking to keep that event away – that was totally my fault. Because, you see, I am the creator of my own reality. My addiction proved that.

I totally blocked that incident from my memory.  All I had remembered was, that it was another fight. The dreams that I have been having recently, have changed my perception and recollection.