Being myself

What’s going on Trainwrecks? “Being myself” is not something that has always come natural to me. I have tried to pursue much of my life in the image of someone else’s life. I’ve tried to pretend I was someone else, someone who didn’t have the experiences I have had. When I was in the service I used to fantasize one day I would be a teacher or a brew master or something cool like that. I used to allow my arms-length relationship with my to mother confuse me and think it odd it has been almost twenty-five years since I have spoken to my father. For a couple years I tried to pretend I was never even in the military and I locked away anything that reminded me of my service. After I was medically retired in 2016 I was ashamed and frustrated at what my life had become despite my efforts. I used to wonder what I was supposed to be doing with myself (besides getting my shit together). As I move forward almost four years later, I realize things are the way they are because of what “I” need and no one else (save for my wife and son). Today I am myself once again, a bit bent yes. But no longer broken. I will forever be my own mental hero, Sergeant Juliano. Today I am proud to say for now I am just Dominick. We’ll see what happens if this school thing pans out.

Previously, we discussed Five ways to be more likable and I appreciate the feedback and commentary. Thanks for your feedback, Danny I agree taking time to compliment one another speaks volumes for who we are in our lives. Discussing the things we admire about others lets them know we have paid attention to them and establishes a welcome environment in which we are free to discuss ideas.

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I have felt hatred so much in this life I often wondered if others are even capable of love. I have confused love with a multitude of things in my pursuit of understanding people. I’ve confused love with friendship. I’ve been confused by my infatuation of others and thinking I could only point my love in one direction at all times. I would often feel that if I didn’t magically hit my mark every time, I was somehow a failure as a man. I would often feel my failures all the way to the bottom of my soul and thus I felt not only would I never love anyone but I would never be capable of being loved in return. This was a result of my many misguided trials and errors trying to understand why my life was such a mess all the time no matter what I tried. My history of failed relationships and the eternal scorn I’ve earned from countless girlfriends (that I mostly deserve) is a rather uncredited source of my understanding in this department. I simply did not understand people and from an early age I have been curious about the things I did not understand because I really had no tangible examples from which to develop my own opinion. It seemed like every time I would get used to a situation in my life and begin to relax and settle in, I would be abruptly moved or deeply affected with negative consequences from decisions adults would make and affect me.

I’m going to preface the following paragraphs by affirming that I do not give a fuck what you think about me. Any of you. I share my life publicly with others because I realize that gives others courage in private to face what they might not otherwise be willing to face. Trainwrecks, the only way out is through.

Being sexually involved with adults when I was a child often meant I would go from having nearly nothing I needed to having the things I wanted very rapidly and those circumstances would often go back and forth. After the first adult who raped me got involved in my life I learned that if I allowed sexual contact with men who showed me they wanted it from me, I would get the attention I craved. I would receive gifts and candy and get the feeling like I belonged somewhere, and everything was going to be alright. When I was young, most of the adults in my life barely noticed me since they were so wrapped up in their own thing. It was the eighties, and feel-good message cartoons along with banning video games and rap music were the answer to the woes of society. When television was the substitute for parenting and kids were given Ritalin like candy. I was often told to “shut up, sit still, stop being bad, stop acting stupid and to listen to the adults.” Learning to act invisible meant for the most part I was given freedom to explore my world and I always felt bummed when someone who gave me the attention I craved stopped as suddenly as they began. I was six years old and I have never forgotten what it felt like to be so very confused.

Looking back at my sexual activity before I hit puberty, I realize I am different than probably 99% of people who walk this planet. And that is okay. Nothing I ever did was ever really about sex, Trainwrecks. Yes, sex feels good. Attention and interactions feel even better.

I was a child looking for love and love feels good. Trainwrecks, sex does NOT mean love. And to me, it never will. I realize I view a lot of this stuff different than most people.

The biggest issue I had as a child was no one ever bothered to tell me that sex doesn’t mean love. I realize now as an adult that sex does not mean love. I realize that sexual activity means exactly what you want it to mean and that is a privilege afforded every human being, regardless of the opinions or desires of others, their institutions and families. I realize today that I am not worthless.

Only two of the men in my life were ever caught. That mattered little because even after one was caught, he was kept in my life afterward. Even after all the horrible names I was called by family members who feared the one I stood up to and finally told NO. Even after all my terrible experiences in court knowing my family asked for leniency and then threw me right back into the fire with him. All the confusing things I was being told about what was going on was wrong and that the love I craved so much because it was what I knew was wrong and that everything I felt in my life was wrong, I was still once again left alone with him. I concluded it wasn’t my fault men wanted to have sex with a little boy, it was my fault I allowed him to get caught and shamed the family. I was so fucking confused as a child who didn’t know what was acceptable and what wasn’t. Not only did things continue but other children were affected as well. Simply because no one else would say NO to that man or even show me any other love for that matter. I would often feel like an inconvenience as the personal interests of dangerous narcissistic adults were often put before mine when I was a child. After a while, I began to accept that I was a nobody and this was all my fault. A no one. A nothing. In all honesty, what the Hell did the adults in my life expect? Both of my parents told me at different times in my life that I was worthless and intentionally made me feel worthless, because I would never be as good as them in their high and mighty lives. I’ve never forgotten the way both my parents have made me feel throughout my life, nor will I ever.

Trainwrecks, WE ARE NOT WORTHLESS. Let me be the one to tell you if no one else will. YOU ARE NOT WORTHLESS.

My father in law, Jonathan is one of the many reasons I have felt worthless as an adult. After he told me I should kill myself because my wife and son would be better off without me, I realized just how disgusting the Medfords truly were. The Medfords did things based off how Jonathan felt and what he believed was okay in his own family’s life, not mine. No one deserves to be told they are worthless by narcissistic people they neither like nor need in their life. I am not a blood member of the Medford family. I have never really liked nor even wanted my in-laws in my life. They just sort of showed up one day uninvited and slowly took over. My wife and I still receive hateful messages from both Denise and Jonathan calling me names and “demanding” they be permitted access to my son and me to the point it’s pathetic, but predictable. It’s been well over a year since Jonathan and Denise Medford were both removed from my family’s life because they are dangerously narcissistic, unstable and unsafe to be around children.

Dangerous Narcissism ALWAYS puts children at risk. That is why my mother and father in law, Jonathan and Denise Medford were removed from my son’s life after I recognized predatory behaviors in Jonathan and instructed him to stop. They were both told for years to stay out of my marriage and more importantly, Jonathan was told to keep his filthy hands off my son and he refused. The Medfords are selfish and disrespectful toward one another and I have come to understand that is simply how they choose to live, not me. I reluctantly promised my wife I would not harm that disgusting politically obsessed socialist and followed the legal advice I was given which was to simply corner him into a publicly recognized discussion about his behavior in a court room. I don’t care what he thought he was there to discuss. I know how a court room works and how judges think. I’ve simply been here before as a child and I know Jonathan has not. Jonathan cares about Jonathan and no one else. “BEHAVE YOURSELF, Dominick.” I was told to behave myself when I retired. I’m trying.

Two men in my life were caught. Today none of them are living anymore that I know of and I honestly don’t care at this point. That part of my life is over, and I am who I am today because of my fucked-up experiences and the outlook on life I have arrived as a result. Today I hold my head high every day because I can honestly say I understand all of this more than the average person and I have my own educated opinion about relationships and sexuality as a result of it.

I am aware my opinion is based off my experiences and education which are different than most. They just are.

I pursued Psychology because I wanted to understand myself and, in that process, I have developed an understanding of other people as well. I joined the military because I had very little positive direction going forward in my life and I needed a point of reference. I needed the leadership and guidance I had never really been given.

When I joined the military, I found everything I had ever been looking for. I found my own home filled with misfits just as royally fucked up as me. Some of them I would die for. For others, I would do even more. I met other men and women from broken homes and who have lived with other families. I met other adults who spent time in institutions while growing up like I did because we were socially unacceptable and unwanted. The most dangerous people I’ve met over the years came from fucked up childhoods like mine. In the military I served with people who were simply tired of being fucked with. In the military we learned how to stop being fucked with.

If I am permitted to take the life of another human being, why was I never permitted to understand how to love? Why was I never permitted to understand why we love? I have lived with so many questions.

An eighteen-year-old young man from a broken home is a military recruiter’s wet dream. I can honestly say that my recruiter made do with every promise made because she told me the most important thing I could ever do in my Air Force career would be to “show up.” She was right. I used to think I didn’t belong, and I was inferior because I didn’t have this awesome backstory that I thought everyone else had. I showed up to Basic and Tech School and I became a member of the military. I showed up to the training others wouldn’t and I got to play with heavy machine guns and grenade launchers. I showed up to deployments and my coursework others wouldn’t and I got to have a master’s degree in psychology and learn to impact other people’s lives in ways I never dreamed. Ten years later I once again have my eyes set on that Ph.D. I have dreamt of it ever since I was a child and throughout my life have been told it would never be possible. I didn’t realize until long after I finished Grad school, but I am following a discovery of myself as I understand others.

I did not come this far to only get this far and I am learning more every day what that really means. I remind myself every day that the people around me these days do not view me as the monster I have been able to finally control. It has to be ME telling myself that. I understand people sometimes feel intimidated when they meet me because of how THEY might be feeling and although I can’t control their feelings, I can sure affect them by being polite and respectful and putting others at ease.

Every morning I look into the mirror and see a person staring back at me that no one else sees. I see a child who was used, lied to and tossed away once he was done with me. I see a child who now believes what he believes regardless of what he and everyone else has been told, and that is okay. I see someone who has struggled with addiction, who has been skinny as a rail and dangerously obese. The person looking into that mirror in real life is now sober and clear-headed. When I see that person filled with doubt and who feels like he will never be good enough or an expert in anything, I realize it is merely a reflection, a choice made with the information given. When I see the person looking back at me in the mirror I realize I am seeing what I see because I see what others do not.

Before I leave my bathroom, I tell myself I’m honest. Before I leave that mirror, I gaze upon the gray in my hair and in my beard. I see the lines of age crease across my brow and I find comfort in the reality I’m still alive. I am here. Right here, right now talking to you. The only way out is through and I have survived my trials thus far. My resolve prepares me for everything that comes next. Man do I have a lot to prepare for and it’s both frightening and exciting.

SHARE THIS. You may be bent but you are not broken. IGNITE!

You’re Welcome. Internet.

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