Sometimes I lie awake at night, thinking about how I came to be...

RFW

RFW

Certified Night Owl
Location
United States
These are the thoughts that run through my mind at night while I'm in bed but can't sleep. I tend to think about past events in my life, things I could have done differently, and how they've led me to be who I am now. Some thoughts are random and insignificant. I will try to keep it chronological but it may jump further in time and back. Some details are intentionally kept vague for privacy.

I was born in a small town in Pennsylvania. Father, an immigrant from Germany before WWII. Mother, a Canadian of English descent.

Dad was always patriotic and loved the American way of life. Mom had a Cockney accent which she used less and less as time went on.

Both of them hid their accents in public, especially dad. He did his best to sound "American". I was never taught German and dad only spoke it with grandfather as it was the only language he spoke. He never went back to Germany. I think he wanted nothing to do with it.

I was never close to grandfather. He would watch over me while I played but showed no emotion. I never really knew what he thought of me but he was there to keep me safe. He died of heart failure when I was 6. I did not cry for him. I felt like I never knew what he was truly like. I felt sad for dad.

Grandmother died years before him, when I was still a baby. I don't have any memory of her. She helped raise me. Everyone told me she had always been bullied by her sisters and mother. I felt she had a sad and unfulfilling life.

I never knew much about mom's family either. I know hers and dad's didn't get along and throughout her life, she had very little communication with them. She never complained.

Growing up, dad showed tough love and would never hug me. He praised me when I did something good and punished me just the right amount when I needed to be taught a lesson. Looking back, it was probably for the best.
He taught me to never stand out, be the center of attention and be cocky. His past might have something to do with it. I feel it's affected my self esteem and confident to this day, albeit in a lesser degree.

We ran a successful grocery store and a farm. Some would say I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth but we never flaunted our wealth. Mom and dad would dressed as if we had little to spare. They would always try to give me the best of everything while teaching me the value of money. That did little as I always thought we could always make more.

I got bullied a lot in school during my teenage years. Being tall and skinny like a matchstick didn't help. I kept it from dad. He would always tell me to fight back and not back down. I just thought it would only get me into more trouble.
I think "This won't be my life forever." "I just have to suck it up until we graduate and go our separate ways."
I found a solution. Quid pro quo, if you will. Homework for no beatdown. Bullying stopped. They saw my worth. As we grew up together, they became nicer. They wised up. Graduation came. All friendly and smiling together. We parted ways.

Back from Vietnam. All that time pondering what I would do with my life once I got back home and still, I had no clue.
I was so used to having a routine and a goal but now I'm lost. Dad says "Why don't you go be a pilot or something?" I don't have the courage to say I need some time to discover myself. I know he won't approve of it. I cave in but demand to study in Canada. He obliges.
I never got homesick in Vietnam. I couldn't wait to be away again. My way of rebellion.

I needed more time to think and I wasn't ready for this. I excelled at school but did poorly in college. I didn't tell dad I was flunking. He wouldn't have taken it well. He paid for everything so I didn't have to work and could focus solely on studying. I stopped going and spent the money he sent on travels. I went where I wanted to go. I did what I wanted to do. I felt totally free for the first time but it wasn't without a cost.

More to come...
 

I tried the bed again and couldn't sleep. Something has been bothering me and I just don't know what it is. So here's more.
And to those who have read the first part, thank you for taking the time to read it. My life is unremarkable and it's about to get duller.

Being a closeted gay man let loose in the world, I started experimenting with sex, sleeping with a different guy every week. It was just pure luck I didn't contract anything. I was naive and careless. Thinking back, I could have been robbed or killed. It took me about a month to realize this was not a way to live but it sure was fun while it lasted. Money was also running low.

Christmas came and I promised to be home for it. Dad asked about college. I played coy. He suspected something was up. I finally came clean about college but kept my sexuality from him. He once caught me laying my head on a male friend's lap and he confronted me about it.
"Are you a f**?" He asks. I look away and reply firmly "No." and walk away. I cannot lie straight to his face.
He did not like how I wasted all the money he sent with nothing to show for. He expressed disappointment. I kept quiet. It was hard to utter even a word. I felt guilty and ashamed for what I had dome but didn't know how to convey it in a way that would appear sincere to him.
We don't hug and it would be weird to start now.
I left the table and went up to my room. The next day, I was woken up by mom telling me something's wrong with dad. He had a mild heart attack. It runs in the family but it wasn't a coincidence. I had a hand in this. Thankfully, it wasn't a serious one and he recovered.

It was a known fact that dad wasn't happy with me not having a steady job at 23. I still didn't know what to do with my life. He was buddy buddy with the police chief and they would gladly take me. Not to anger him any further, I reluctantly accepted. I went to a state academy and out in less than 6 weeks as a recruit working for a small town PD. After a few more weeks of field training, I was officially a police officer. The job provided me with a sense of structure which I evidently needed.

Dad started hounding me about marriage. I said I hadn't found anyone. An old friend/neighbor's kid started coming around a lot. We used to be very close and went to the same school.
I still live with my parents. She lives in the next town over. She has no business here but she comes every weekend just to hang out with me. Our parents want us to date. She says she's always liked me but she's out of my league even if I were straight. She must have taken pity on me because I was not like the others at school. I tell her I'm sure my dad set this up and somehow convinced her parents to go along with it. I say I can break this arrangement because this is not right and she deserves the love that I cannot give her.
She was never judgmental so it was easy to break it to her. I felt I could tell her anything and it would be alright.
 
Here's another edition of "Nobody cares but I do it anyway."

The thought of disappointing dad again gnaws at me. "I will fight for this." I think. Her parents do want us to be together. She insists she wants to be with me. She knows I won't be able to love her the way she loves me and that's good enough for her.
Mom knew I was resisting. She didn't want another potential bout of heart attack from dad. I didn't either and felt trapped. Everyone seemed okay with going through the charade and I was the only one with the least to lose.
"This won't be our live forever." I tell her. It is all my fault and in time I will find a way to get her out of this. She hugs me passionately.

The wedding came. He spared no expense. Everybody seemed happy, so did she. I was not but I faked it. No point in upsetting anyone for no reason.
"Man up. It's just one day." I tell myself.
She looked so beautiful, pure and innocent. I felt tainted. I survived the day. Reality kicked in.
2 years in the force and now we're married and have a small house. I go to work and come home. Rinse and repeat. She always keeps herself busy with chores and knows how to enjoy herself in her spare time. When I am home, I have her full attention and she has mine. I enjoy doing things with her. I never get the impression that she wants more in her life. I look at men but I can never betray her. I feel selfish for wanting more.
It's been a year we've been married. She starts talking about having kids, so does everyone. I don't trust myself enough to think I could be a good dad. She reaffirms me I'm more than capable. I was hoping my dad's stance would change, that I could divorce safely. I can't say this is a bad life, far from it. I live with my best friend. We enjoy each other's company. Something others would kill for. I can't anything to complain about when if I try.

We moved forward with the plan. She wanted 2 children so they could always have a friend. They were born a year apart. It was the best moment of our life and changed how I thought about raising children. By this time, we had moved to the west coast. I stuck with the familiars. A new small town with better environment for the kids, where nothing bad would likely happen on the job. I was never one to take risks, think outside the box and all that. Just same old police work, different places. Once in a while, there would be something that got my heart pumping. That just came with the job sometimes.
Often, I come home and see my kids and my wife and think tomorrow could be my last day. I need to always cherish every moment together.
Morning comes, wife always makes breakfast and we have it together. I kiss her goodbye for the day and once I'm out the door, I leave all the fears and worries behind. I think to myself "It will be just like any other uneventful days."
Wife tried to steer me into a different career path. I liked this job. I liked sticking to what works. It was a stable job that paid enough for all of us. Sometimes I pulled double shifts to be able to afford something special for them. She also did part time here and there, whenever the time allowed. She just didn't like doing nothing. She never asked for more money than needed and always tried to chip in. She knew I wanted to be more but achieving it is another story.

I would spend my days off with them. I never wanted alone time unlike some people. I never had a problem with additions and substance abuse. I never smoked. My dad and grandfather were heavy smokers. I think that's why I've never tried it. They drank too but not excessively. I think I would be highly susceptible to addictions so I've always stayed clear. No weed for me. I already had enough bad habits as they were.
I didn't like parties. I never fit in. I was not into sports. I would let my wife tell me what I should do in my free time. I liked listening to her talking about things she was into. Not something that interested me personally but hearing her explain it made it interesting. It interested me that she was interested in it.
Wife taught our two boys well. They were never untidy. They wouldn't want to anger her. It was time consuming for her but she made it look so easy. It made my work easy. The boys got along well but they were like two halves of the same coin, one was more artistic, another more technical. We encouraged them to pursue what they were interested in.
 

I was never religious. My family were. Suffice to say, it was not a fun time for me whenever we went to church. I kept it to myself and dared not speak out. I wanted to fit it.
"Bring shame to family is one cardinal sin you just don't commit."

He would tell me about how he was caught stealing once. He ran home and my grandfather helped hide him and dealt with the Konditor (baker). Grandfather would deny everything, then beat my dad senseless once the baker had left. I got the feeling he was once a cruel man. Right up to his death, I remember them arguing regularly. There were times when they didn't say a word to each other for weeks. I never got how people could just live together but not talk out of frustration. It's something I told myself I'd never do.
I tell my wife "If I ever do something wrong, that you think is bad, confront me with it. I will never walk away and shut you down." I may be hot headed but I will never hurt you.

I'd like to think I have a guardian angel watching over me, keeping me safe. When I was little, I used to climb the tallest birch tree right outside of our house. I fell 15 feet down, head first, but one of my legs caught a branch, slowing down the descent. My head hit the ground. Not a scratch on me. I got up and ran back inside like nothing happened.

I took my dad's '57 Harley Davidson Sportster for a ride and went over a bump too fast and crashed. Scraped knee and knocked the wind right out of me. It scared me so much I swore I'd never do it again.
Years later, I was given a '57 Oldsmobile Super 88 from my uncle. Dad would try to teach me how to drive but he was too tense and agitated so my uncle took over. It wasn't hard at all. I realized I had no need for speed. No need for speeding tickets. That life was not for me.

I had a piece of toothpick flung at me and it got stuck between my eyeball and eyelid. I didn't know what it was until I took it out. No damage.

My dad supported the troops. I could have escaped to Canada like some people I knew did. I was scared of the danger, of being controlled again. I could have applied for a less risky position but the thought of doing more than a year pained me. I did not think it through.
At bootcamp, I met new friends. It was the people and the sense of comradery that made it bearable and we even got to have fun.
We joked around a lot, called each other's names. Everyone knew what everyone's mom did in secret. It was all fun and games.
"You get offended, you lose the game."
Off to Vietnam.
Most of them were more mature than me. I was just a dork who never had to fend for myself. They toughened me up, taught me things I didn't know. Surprising you get used to things you never thought you could. Sometimes I stared at the sky, wondering what my parents would do if something were to happen to me.
I survived without so much as a sprained ankle. Back home, I was the center of attention again. I didn't go out for a week. I missed some of my friends dearly. I wrote them and they wrote back. Some time later, someone stopped and I stopped. I was terrible at keeping friends.
 
I too enjoyed reading the synopsis of your life and where it's brought you to. It shows you're a decent person who cares about who you are and what you bring to others in your life. Very interesting and introspective. I would look forward to hearing more as well.

Many of us think our lives are mundane and of little interest to others much of the time but sharing edited snapshots of our lives with people is of great value I think. It shows that although we are different in many ways, we are all much the same in others.
 
MrPants said:
I too enjoyed reading the synopsis of your life and where it's brought you to. It shows you're a decent person who cares about who you are and what you bring to others in your life. Very interesting and introspective. I would look forward to hearing more as well.

Many of us think our lives are mundane and of little interest to others much of the time but sharing edited snapshots of our lives with people is of great value I think. It shows that although we are different in many ways, we are all much the same in others.
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That is true. I've been reading some of the stories in this section and it's amusing that people can go through a similar situation and still have unique takes on it.
I'm writing a harder part of the story that I've been drafting for over a day now. It's a heavy subject and I keep changing the way I tell it, trying to be as unbiased as I can. I don't want it to sound like it's a call to action. I don't want it to invoke a response that make people fight among each other. So I will probably write about a more light hearted part of my life instead, for now.
 
Alligatorob said:
@RFW if you keep writing I'll keep reading.

You are an interesting story teller and have an interesting story to tell.
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I must thank you again. Your praise is the first positive comment I get, aside from the likes.
There was a point where I would end it because it already served its purpose. I sleep somewhat better now. You and the others encourage me to go deeper. I still choose my words carefully while trying to be as accurate as possible. That's why I stay off political sections of this site.
 
I will try. @Pinky
I don't think I will completely as to not muddy the waters. I will try to convey my intentions with appropriate words. I think I've been harsh here before and I do not like that.
 
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Wow, great share! Iā€™m always interested in real life stories because it helps me put my own into perspective. Thanks for sharing.
I just happen to stream ā€œUncle Frankā€ the other night & thought it was a great story on family dynamics.
 
1955 said:
Wow, great share! Iā€™m always interested in real life stories because it helps me put my own into perspective. Thanks for sharing.
I just happen to stream ā€œUncle Frankā€ the other night & thought it was a great story on family dynamics.
Click to expand...
What's that? Sounds interesting.
 
My family had a parrot and an older German Shepherd. The parrot said "Halt deinen Mund" and "Verfickter ScheiƟdreck" often. I felt that it was always directed at me. It didn't talk like that to anybody else. I just said "Shut up, bird!" every time. This bird had an axe to grind and I wasn't going to take it lying down. I later found out what those two phrases mean. "Shut your mouth" and "F***ing sh**". TouchĆ©, bird. TouchĆ©.

The dog was the most well behaved and calmest dog I ever had. She would follow me everywhere I went. She wasn't trained but I think all the years had shown her how the world worked. No leashes required. One thing she kept doing that I still don't understand is she would lick my piss every time I relieved myself outside whenever I felt like it. Maybe it was her idea of cleaning up after me.
I don't remember how she and the parrot died. I wish I could remember their names.

My dad's friend gave us one of his dogs, a Pitbull, that had seriously bitten someone and the owner didn't want to see him get put down. He showed no signs of aggression. If dad allowed him to be around me, he must not have been that bad. He was playful and got along really well with other dogs. It was definitely the human who was to blame.

We never had more than two dogs at a time and when they died, we got more. Kind of a necessity when you have a farm. I think dad felt better when there were dogs around me. They protected me time and time again from foxes, coyotes and snakes. God, how much I hate snakes. I didn't know back then that not every hospital carried every kind of antivenom and it helped your chance of survival greatly if you knew what kind of snake you had been bitten by. I think it still rings true today (correct me in a message if I'm wrong). I saw it as a death sentence, a painful way to die. As I grew up, I learned that snakes don't just attack willy-nilly. They prefer to just take off when threatened and only fight back as a last resort. Regardless, the dogs killed them all the same. They never missed.

Now, this one was the odd one out of the bunch, Billy, a male Dalmatian, born to be free as a bird. He was more interested in everything else but people. Nice dog but he liked to run off way too many times. The first one that needed a leash. We got it because of The Hundred and One Dalmatians. I think his spirit matched the book. One time, I was just sitting outside, minding my own business, having a burger. He came up to me from behind, all stealthy like, then quickly snatched my burger right out of my hands and ran away. I've never been bushwhacked so badly in life.
One day, he was just lying down, not being himself. Something to do with his stomach. We didn't know what. The next day, he was dead, at only two years old. My last memory of him was seeing him walk past the front door, appearing alive and well. Maybe that was his ghost I was seeing, finally set free.
I didn't cry but I was sad. Looking back now I would be lying if I said his life was memorable. I remember his death more vividly than his time with me. I'm shedding a few tears as I'm writing this.

This dynamic duo was very special to me. They arrived as puppies, a male Rottweiler and a female mix of something... Woody and Casey (and no, I didn't name them). Woody was hyperactive, so full of energy, as a young puppy should be. Casey was a lazy lady who would prefer just to sit around all day and it seemed to be all she wanted to do. If only Woody's excessive energy could be transferred to her. Woody was our favorite. He liked to run, a perfect companion for jogging. Casey was just content watching everybody else have fun. She was partial to a good belly rub though, which I liked to give her. Woody knew how to cheer us up, make us feel special. He would just run up and jump at me, begging for a big hug. We taught him a few commands. Only thing we couldn't teach him was how to be calm while eating. He would growl at us if we got near him with his food, acting like he was going to attack but he never did. Casey was a dog that you could leave in a room for a few hours and come back to find that everything had been left untouched.
They made babies during one cold winter. We gave them away. There were too many.
One day, he came up to my dad like he was trying to tell him something was wrong with the stomach. Again. The pattern was suspect. Dad had a theory, that a certain neighbor poisoned him, someone we had disputes with in the past. There was a million things he could have eaten that would make him sick. But you'd think that a dog in this kind of environment would have known better.
I don't remember the details but the vet couldn't help him. Dad put him down. Casey died a couple weeks later of a broken heart. 6 years old. Gone too soon. I was old enough to comprehend death as a grown person should. I was away when he died. I was only a day late.
We buried our dogs on our farm. These two were the ones I would make headstones for, had I known it was a thing. Dad believed dogs are animals and should be treated as such. He also believed in the afterlife.

I watch dad dig two graves and bury them. I say "I wish you would be reborn as my dog again." He says "No, not as a dog but a person."

This was the first time I understood the meaning of having no closure. I didn't get to say goodbye.
We never got any more dogs after that. At this point in time, we didn't need them on the farm and I just graduated. Also, I think it hurt too much for both of us.


Sorry I had to end this on a somber note. I didn't plan to but it has gone on long enough for one sitting. I need to get some air. šŸ„²
 
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