Sometimes the most memorable times of our lives are the ones we’d like to forget forever. Their magesty is in their memorable tradgedy. Their tradgedy is enfolded with a confusing lack of explaination of our identities. The mind replays and replays to ensure the bearer of the memory that, no stone unturned, there is a rationale.
But when the memory is replayed, each successive replay removes the actualized integrity of the original event. One day, scratched all to hell, one would hope the mental flesh “laserdisk” in the mind and body is unplayable. I have a set of disks. They are scatched all to hell. Best thing that ever happened. Now I have PTSD from 23 years ago. In the early years, those disks (the embossed neural net)- they were clearer and my mouth played them.
The events were clearer and I could tell you, cold and far removed, the content, the crime, the searing pain of “why doesn’t a barely post-pubescent boy attack a 30 year old man back?”. And go to prison? Now I am 39 and a 30 year old is almost a kid. Post-catatonia, after 20 years I call the Detroit police to make a report. Because for posterity, I had to. For me.
I told the police what happened. Menacing. Harassment. And felony. Felony. Another felony. Statute of limitations mentioned. I say I understand. Humbly the officer says, “Why are you reporting this NOW?”. I say, “I don’t know.” Its a matter of decades for shock to wear off. I watch ex-boy Catholic victims make lawsuits and go to work. I see Sandusky declared guilty and I am personally exhilarated. I hear he may be put with other prisoners and think things you wouldn’t easily believe.
When I have “been the victim” others have tried to be the tough vindicator for me. On one occassion, a close associate tells me he bought a rifle with bullets with Jackie Jackiestein’s name on them (yeah, that’s my abuser’s real name. Lives on 123 Insanity Lane, Destroy-your-world, WA USA). Well I reported the intent. The police stopped that rage.
Rage upsets victims. Besides, that was my kill. I declined. I declined 1000 times. I don’t want the Sandusky’s dead. Caught and chemically castrated would be civil.
So how do I live? I am not a victim now. I died. I was out in the woods, man. Church function. Protestant. I do protest!
Male. Adolescent. Abused. Sexual in nature. What the hell do you do? Truly this is where the Urban Magi is from. The Earth. I was born in fear. Shock. PTSD. I personally took a path that is odd. There are no functioning rehabs for abused boys. You do not raise you hand and say “ME”. To boot, I have had heart problems. I have a born-with congenital blood disease that is very serious that can cause asphyxia. 1:4 die this way.
So I don’t need angry fathers or vigilantes telling me they’ll “get ’em”. My blood disease and shock of attack left me nearly lifeless, catatonic in the back woods 30 miles from any hwy and an 8 mile hike out. I hiked 8 miles AFTER that. The perp gave me heart problems and I hiked out. That’s not “bad guy” or “wow what courage”. No. That sucked.
I don’t get a chance to talk about that. A little about me- I take people at face value, I’m not gay or “gay-agenda” sympathetic, but I do believe everyone with a face has feelings, and I don’t give a crap about people’s sexuality. Like I’ve said before, I’ve almost drowned, so people having oxygen is my goal. So far, so good. I’m in a commited relationship. That is key to being all I can be! Ha! She’s awesome. All my PTSD & shit she is the sniper and I am the spotter.
So I play bass guitar, I cook. I cook food. Er. I am qualified to perform CPR, coop with non ER police in my community. I volunteer my time on line to help people with rare diseases. All the energy I held for anger I took decades to reallocate to sharply focus on hunting the neglected and saving them. I think I’ve saved two lives and caught one sex offender and got him fired. That gives me no pleasure, I mean, not an ongoing joy. But I am pleased to be where I am. I would like to do more positive than negative done to me.
If I died today, I feel like I win. I feel I understand enough… ENOUGH, not all, but I understand God enough to know mankind was entrusted to care about the cub ME… and it pissed God off I was failed. I respect God, but I’m a religious “bum”. I get up into God’s space though and say, what’s UP with your world. He answers my prayers. God knows the Urban Magi and he knows my crap. But I’m allowed in and I want people to know if they have been dealt crap, people are cheating you. Do what I did. Make a deal with God or die trying. Life has been hell. I can only hope I am going to continue to do well.
Anyway, that’s it for now. But I’ve lived a lot of life, so not sharing it has been WEIGHING on me, dude. Thanks for reading!!!