Confronting My Demons (Part 2 of 6)

In Freefall

After clunking through the 1990 - 1991 school year as a freshman at a psychotic mind altering school for the wealthy, I was drained. I felt helpless about my environment and I could not change what I did not like.

I did not like failing, though I did not literally fail classes at US, it was a failure due to the fact I knew I would not be returning there. I could not fix the issues that were created there. I failed my mother and especially my step-father. I can tell he had some extra hate towards me because he gave up a job opportunity in Cincinnati in order for me to go to that specific school. I was especially pained because I failed my grandmother, I feel as though I had marred the good name she once had upon our family there.

I did not like my religion. I don't believe I had a clear thought as why back then. When I was finishing my 8th grade, I was also finishing my 2 years of Lutheran Confirmation classes. I'm guessing my experiences from that being shoved down my throat helped me see clearly what the religion was really for. I did not agree with it and it exasperated me. I was still forced to go every Sunday.

I did not like my surroundings and ambiance. Like I have said before, my step-brother was not around due to a court order against my mother. My sister had gone off to college and was trying everything to not ever come back again. That drew the target to just me. I was alone and I felt like a parental experiment for the first time in my life. I was labeled guilty by my mother and step-father with whatever I did that did not look reasonable to them. And I was being severely punished for things beyond my control. Don't forget, I was just a young teenager and I wanted to do teenager types of things. I had no type of support system for myself... everyone had either left or just didn't want to hear anything from the now labeled "failure".

Since the summer started, I tried like hell to leave all the crap of the last school year behind me. The one thing that did help was my dad was in contact over the last year. He was a new pair of listening ears and a new support system. I still did not have the ability to make long distance phone calls without being punished, but it was nice the realize there was something else out there. Even calling my sister in college was a punishable offense.

Even better was the fact I was invited to goto Milford, MA for about two whole months to stay with my dad and my new step-mother, 3 step-brothers and one step-sister. A whole new diversion and world was opening up for me. I fled from my old world and jumped happily into the new one. No rules, no bullshit and lots of normal people to talk to. I thoroughly enjoyed it while it lasted. Backyard baseball and hockey, computer games everywhere you looked and CABLE television! "Culture Shock!" Unfortunately it lasted only about 10 days. The new marriage was not working for reasons beyond my knowledge and I was told that I had to go home. The plane ticket was bought and my things were packed. So, I panicked.

I had been walking for a couple hours and I was completely lost in Massachusetts. By this time I was quite used to walking long distances but when you have no idea what your surroundings are... it makes 1 mile seem like 10. The day was hot and I was hungry and tired and finally called my Dad's place. After that incident I created, it was determined that my Dad should drive me back to Ohio than to send me packin on a plane to hell. Though I did thoroughly appreciate the gesture, this was still an extremely crushing blow.

I was in a Massachusetts state of mind when I arrived back to the schedules, chore lists and room inspections household. With my mother on one hand telling me, "I told you your father was a loser, he is no good." My brain was thinking wildly independently for the first time and that crap was the last thing I needed to hear.

I was also hearing stuff like, "You are not returning to University School, you are not good enough for all that. Your work there was an embarrassment and poor. You don't deserve it. You will be enrolled to Richmond Heights."

Something you (yes, you, the reader) should never do is continually kick somebody while they are down. One of two things will happen. The person you are kicking will either cower like a fool or snap and fight back.

I believe I was ready to go back to US and fight my way to better grades. I hated the place but I wanted to prove it wrong. Though I felt my balls were kicked in after being sent home from my father's early, I was still ready to march back and get things done. After the news above and the way it was dealt to me, it was changing me. Every good thing that was happening to me was immediately taken away. So I wanted to make some of my own changes on my own terms and do things my own way.

Obviously, that was pretty useless in my totalitarian household. The arguments turned into yelling and screaming fights. I was getting bolder at voicing my own opinion. I was disappearing into the night.

One evening when a usual yelling fight ensued, I got a bit too bold.

"Why do you have to be such a BITCH?!"

My mother immediately threw me to the floor and started kicking me. First it was just in the leg. She was enraged and red faced and a blur of bullshit words were coming out her mouth. I retreated to the kitchen corner where I could guard myself better but it just created more anger. Her foot started taking aim at my face as I pleaded with her to stop. It was not stopping. So the next time she went to kick me I put up both my arms, while crouched on the floor, and pushed back on her leg in defense.

You would think it would be defense.

My step-father quickly jumped in the way and held me in the corner. Meanwhile my mother called the police.

If you might imagine, the police were taking their word over my own sobbing anger and put me into the cruiser. The whole neighborhood was watching. So I was put into an interrogation room complete with a two way mirror. I stayed locked in there for hours. I could hear stupid drunks trying to beat there way out of jail. I was bored and annoyed and depressed and conquered. When the police realized I was taking apart the chair I was sitting in, they came in to finally talk to me.

"They want to press charges for battery. What do you think of that?"

I acted as if I didn't care.

"You will have to goto the juvenile county lockup downtown. Do you understand that?"

I told them that they were not listening to my side of the story. I also told them it would be a nicer place than the crap I was in now.

They repeated what they said.

I cracked. It all poured out.

Though not fully understanding what the hell I was talking about, the police returned me home.

The next couple weeks went the same way. I refused to give up the fight. I was betrayed by my own mother. In one incident, my step-father got so enraged that he tackled me and started slamming my head into the kitchen floor face first. The police were called, but again they would not listen to my story. In disputes with parents versus children, the parents word is always taken, no matter how beaten the child looks.

My anger was wildly growing out of control and the irresponsibility and childishness of my mother and step-father were just continually feeding it. Then one day after having a loud yelling fight with my mother, she called my step-father home. They boxed me in a corner and asked me a bunch of stupid questions like....

"Is this the type of life you want?"
"Do you really want to go down this road?"
Do you really want to fail this early in life?"

I personally couldn't figure out where the fuck they were coming from. As my step-father was "guarding" me in the corner of the dining room, my mother was busy dialing numbers in the next room. After about 15 - 20 minutes she came back and exclaimed," Ben, we are going to help you today!"

Huh? Isn't that the sole responsibly of a parent?

I was put into the car and we drove for some time. Everyone was silent. My questions were not being answered. It was creepy.

We arrived at a two floored building within an odd looking complex. We walked through the white front doors and into a white waiting room. I was then registered as a patient at the Windsor Mental Hospital.







After I entered through the next set of doors, I was officially locked up. My parents were now free to take their vacation to Lake Chautauqua.

I stayed for a total of 17 days. There were indeed a bunch of wackos there. Angry kids. Extremely slutty girls. Some 17 year olds were put there as a holding place before they were sent to a state prison to fulfill the rest of their sentences. A lot of screaming and yelling all the time. Holes punched into the walls. Kids being dragged to padded rooms, strapped down and drugged for hours to get them to settle down. A lot of suicidal cases and some cases where the kids were just not handling the death of their parents.

The funny thing was, after my 2 day evaluation lock-down, I was given more freedoms than if I lived at home. Aside from the threats of being beaten to a pulp, I kinda liked it there. If this place was to be a kennel to keep me out of trouble, it didn't work. I learned all kinds of things there. I learned how to hide things, how to be more deceptive, how to smoke cigarettes without being caught and how to properly hate.

Another funny thing was that after all the testing, the staff was kinda thrown off guard. After the 1000 True or False questionnaire, ink blots and the whole kitten kabudle.... I was normal. Extremely smart and kind of passive aggressive. Otherwise... normal. Normal feelings, normal wants, normal needs. The doctors asked me when I wanted to go home. I told them to just throw away the key, I had no home.

Eventually, I was sent home. Back to my own personal hell.

I was given medications to settle me down but after about 5 days of taking it, I flushed it all down the toilet. It wasn't just settling me down, it giving me breathing problems and making me feel light headed all the time. I was not about to be turned into a fruitcake just because I disagreed with jackasses that locked me up so they could go on vacation.

I did keep in contact with one of the girls in the hospital. When her parents would pick her up on a weekend, I would bike to Chagrin Falls and meet her there. We found a way to get away and do what teenagers do. I don't think my parents ever realized I was doing that.

I also did stay on schedule to go on a canoeing trip up in Canada that summer as well. I know I ended up paying for the whole thing. I was kind of mad when I found out my mother told the group leader, before we left, where I had spent almost 3 weeks that summer. The rest is fuzzy of what happened on that trip other than I remember filling my canteen with Vodka for the trip.

We also ended up going to a psychologist sometimes as a family and sometimes on my own. The problem was that my mother was steering the psychologist on to only talk about my faults. When he tried to do this in my own sessions, I would just sit there and stare at him... square in the eye... and say nothing.... for the whole hour. When I lashed out about how horrible a parent was for not understanding what position I was in and how crappy their parenting skills were...during one session and he backed me up.... we never went back again.

Otherwise, the fighting continued, though it did not get as far as it had in the past. I started work at McDonald's towards the end of that crazy summer. My new school year at my first public school experience was about to start up........