I wonder how many times in one life a person gets the chance to start over. If you have been reading, I have had a few. I haven't had to completely start over in many years now, and at first, it caused restlessness. Now, I am learning to be more content with the "normalcy" of my life.
Nothing about my life would fit into the category known to most as "normal". I sure would like to know the man (had to be a man) that decided what "normal" is. I would imagine he is in the minority of the world, as opposed to me.
The relationship I am in now has survived a lot of bullshit, but we keep on going. That, to me, is love. Instead of a dozen roses, he buys me rose bushes. Currently, I have thirteen bushes. I have flowers all season, and they are mine. I have far more than a dozen, he even managed to find me one called a "blue lady", it blooms purple roses! He knows how to cook and clean, hunt, fish, build houses (starting with the foundation ending with the roof, and absolutely everything in between), he can even hem a pair of pants. There isn't much my baby can't do.
He takes care of my son as if he were his own. That's number one on my list. It's not just to make me happy either. He loves us both. Alcohol and money are our two biggest issues..... funny, seems like that's pretty normal. He is beginning to understand my illness, and recently found out that it can become fatal. This has made him a little more protective than what I am used to, but I am learning to live with it. Most people don't know that Psoriasis can attack your internal organs, or that it causes low immunity. It's taken a while for him to understand too, but he does now.
In 2003, I received my AAAS with concentration on Accounting. It was not my first choice. I actually went to college for almost ten years. I couldn't decide what I wanted to be when I grew up, and so, when I had taken every law and psychology class that I could, and was half way through my Medical Assistance program, I decided I had been in school long enough. I looked at my transcripts, and it came down to accounting or business management. I only needed three classes for either one, so I went accounting. At that time, it was supposed to be a high demand field. one told me there was almost no local demand.
I did taxes for several years, telling myself I would eventually become a CPA. The years I spent doing taxes, changed my mind about the whole CPA thing. I have a knack for numbers, but get bored easily....LOL...
I was going back to school to explore the medical field once again, when I became sick. I was in mid semester when I broke my tailbone. The time I was out of school, cost me my financial aide, and so, here I am. I have a degree, but haven't found a way to use it from home effectively as of yet.
I am less than two months from owning my home, and holding on by a thread. My son's name will go on the title, as it is for him. I want to make sure that no matter what, he always has a home! My son has been my number one priority and always will be. I love him more than life itself. His autism means, he may never be able to provide himself with enough income to own a home of his own, so he will have this one. If he can live on his own, I will rent an apartment somewhere when the time comes. I don't worry about what I will do when he is on his own, I just want him to have every opportunity to have as good of a life as he can.
I want my own business. I want to do something I love again. I am currently looking into selling baked goods, but we'll see about that. I make birdhouses, quilts, banks, paintings, beaded items, glycerin soap, and many other hand made crafts out of mostly recycled materials. I would like to sell them, but often times give the stuff away.
Now, I have this blog going. I have ads for people to click and maybe I can make a little money that way. If not, I'll still blog. I enjoy it. Some may think I am a little to open, others will say I need to say more. A few may think I should stop all together. I have never really worried about what other people think I should do. I embrace freedom of speech while attempting to remain respectful. I do not ever intend to hurt anyone, although, it's bound to happen from time to time.
I don't care to get "rich", my life has been very rich.... but it would be nice to maybe go on vacation from time to time, or not have to ration the milk and bread in my house for a change. Though, I believe the payoff of my home will help that out. I have learned to live on a fairly tight budget so I would imagine another $400/month will loosen the belt a touch so that I can actually pursue my home business. I am currently an avon representative, attempting to supplement my supplemental income, but, I am happy. My son is happy.
I believe in God with my whole heart and soul, and don't care what anyone thinks of that. I am hoping the town I live in will recover soon, and people will be able to survive, instead of being thrown out of their homes. I believe that Michigan will be ok eventually, I just hope it's before Ludington becomes a ghost town.
This blog was just to be an insight into one person's life from one person's perspective. If you are only reading this post, it won't make much sense, but if you have read it all, this is my hope for you:
I hope that people come away from this knowing that although times get rough, there truly is a light at the end of the tunnel. The question is, How Long Is Your Tunnel? The choices that I made in My life are what brought me on this journey. I took the long way around. Some figure it out quick, some don't. I don't think I went too far off track, I've seen people in their sixties that are still blaming others for their troubles. I take credit for mine. When people start claiming accountability for their problems and begin trusting in God's greater plan, life just falls into place!
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Friday, January 28, 2011
Going Back Home
I had received a reliable tip from a close friend that my drug activity was about to be stopped abruptly. She was in the law enforcement program at the college I was beginning to attend, and part of training was an actual drug raid. She went out on a limb to save my dumb ass. She said, " I can't give you an address, all I can say is the street you live on is a target for a training drill for a raid." The street I lived on in Houghton Lake, was me, and a bunch of wealthy retirees. I was pretty sure I knew what door they would be knocking down. She also refused to tell me when, but simply, "less than two weeks." I will forever be thankful for her. I had this I'm invincible attitude, and it was about to cost me many years of my life. I packed my stuff, loaded my truck and drove back to Ludington.
I wouldn't be 18 until February, and it was September, so I had to stay with friends until I could get a job. I didn't have to wait. We had a local bean plant that was run by almost all illegal aliens, they didn't even look at an id or ss card. They just hired people and paid them. It worked for me, I was making $6.90 an hour in 1993 working ten to twelve hour shifts seven days a week. To me, it was mad money! I would walk to work and then to the bar where I would play pool and double my weekly pay. Made a lot of men mad back then. I totally did the shark thing. Play for a drink, lose.. Up it to a buck, lose.... five bucks, lose miserably, then some ass would get cocky and offer a twenty to one bet and I'd wipe the table clean in one shot.... just run em out... LOL... I played pool for six or more hours everyday. Even the worst pool player will get good doin that!
After a few months, I started seeing this guy around town. I was actually in Scottville, which is like eight miles east of Ludington. One stop light, two bars, a restaurant, a pharmacy, and a craft store. It was about two blocks long. Needless to say, when a new face appeared everyone noticed. I had seen him at the pay phone a couple times, then he started coming into the bar I spent all of my time in. We started talking, or trying to anyway. He was from Mexico, he could barely say my name. Something about him attracted me immediately. Who cares about the language, communication is far more than words, I could learn as we went.
We started seeing each other and I was completely twitterpated! I quit my job three times in one week so that I could spend time with him. They hired me back each time I quit....LOL... This particular factory was known for that kind of thing. I was working on buying a car, but got stopped with illegal tags and no insurance. Thank God the cop didn't search the car, I had two ounces of pot under my seat. He cut me a break because I was still in my hairnet, hardhat, and swamp boots. I told him I was headed home and he said get there and park it, but the tickets I did get cost more than the amount I owed on the car! Fortunately, I was buying the car from my cousin on payments, and he agreed to take the car back, no hard feelings... Of course, this meant I was back on foot. It was only two miles to work, no big deal. I was also only ten miles to Ludington beach, so when I wasn't hustlin pool, I would walk down to the beach and usually slept there in the sand. I actually enjoyed it. The walks were peaceful, the waves at the beach were gorgeous, and it was just a nice place to be.
The guy I was seeing was becoming very controlling, but I was sure I could handle him. I sure as hell wasn't afraid of him. He decided that he would rent an apartment in Ludington, at first it was so I could find a better paying job. I enjoyed factory work. Many people don't understand that, but at my age and in the time, two hundred dollars a week seemed like a butt load of money. I temped at a couple of the factories, one did Styrofoam craft supplies, the rest were foundry's and auto parts places. I worked for a little while, then Rick decided I should be home. This is where things started to get a little hairy.
I didn't like not working. I had worked most of my life already, and I enjoyed the satisfaction of making my own money. I worked hard at every job I held. When I stopped working, I lost my freedom. He paid the bills and bought me things, but I was not happy. On the weekends, there were always men in the house playing poker and drinking. Rick sucked at poker, but it was a "man's game". I had picked up enough Spanish to understand some of the more important stuff, like when he bet me as a part of the pot in a hand that he lost. I explained that it was only right that I be allowed to play once I was part of the pot. They let me in. I had started learning to play poker when I was about seven. I knew exactly what I was doing, and I knew not to let on about it. By the end of the game, I had won myself and his paycheck back and then some. That was the one and only time I ever got to play with the guys.
Things started getting stranger. One night, when Rick got home from work, my oldest brother was in the apartment. Rick flipped (after my brother left). He accused me of sleeping with my brother! He screamed and yelled and forbid me to have male company in the apartment when he was gone. Then, he forbid me to leave the house alone. This didn't work for me. I was an adult, I had a vehicle, and I sure as hell wasn't gonna tell my brother he couldn't come and visit me. I was too embarrassed to tell anyone what was going on.
I had decided I was going to pack my stuff while he was at work and leave. He came home early, and drunk. He apologized and begged me to stay. When he was standing there in front of me tears streaming down his face, I promised I would stay. I was raised to never make a promise you don't intend to keep, so there I was.
Over the next two weeks, things were just up and down. One night, a few of the poker guys showed up. Rick said he had to go out for a bit, and not to worry, he wouldn't be long. Four hours later, he came home a bloody, almost unrecognizable mess. I didn't do the math quite yet. Later, I found out, I had gotten myself into an even rougher group of people than the drug dealers in Houghton Lake. These guys were from Chicago, and very organized!!! If you get my meaning. I had no idea that Rick was a drug dealer, evidently, he hadn't payed what he owed in cash, so they took it out of his ass! That was it, I knew I had to get out, but I also knew I would have to leave Ludington to do so. I had a plan. I just had to raise some money without him finding out about it. I had become a prisoner in just a few short months and I was planning my escape. I did things I am not proud of to raise the money..... No not prostitution, I would wait for him to pass out and take money from him. Not something I am proud of, even sixteen years later. We had a car, and a truck, I just had to bide my time. I needed about eight hundred dollars to move, and I was gonna get it.
Meanwhile, I had to be the subservient house wife type. If he wanted sex, food, laundry, whatever, I did it. The first time he assaulted me, he had come home from work, and because I was taking a nap, he accused me of cheating on him. Talk about insecure! He screamed and yelled, but never approached me from the front. He was telling me to pack my shit and go, so I grabbed a box and started packing my clothes. He would come toward me from behind, but as soon as I heard him and turned around, he would just start screaming at me and calling me names again.
I sat down on the floor and was folding and packing clothes when he came up behind me and grabbed me by the hair. This didn't hurt, I had two brothers, one was six years older, the other was eight years older. They had made sure my skull was invincible by the time I was ten. I looked up at him and calmly said, "If you don't unhand me, I'm gonna get up and beat the fuck outta you". With a look of surprise, he let go, then the begging started. "please don't go! I love you and I promise it'll get better". I still needed about three hundred dollars, so I let it go.
The next day, he came in trashed again. My dad had stopped over, so I felt pretty safe. Out of nowhere Rick started freakin out again. He threw a beer bottle at my head, and missed. My dad went to grab a hold of him, but I told him I could handle it. I hit the dick head with a lamp. You know, the old heavy hourglass shaped solid lamps. He slept for a few hours. When he woke up, I told him I had had it. I was leaving if things didn't change. Again with the crying and begging.
He went to work the next day and came home sober. He wanted to take me out for dinner to apologize. Ok, I'll go out to dinner. We went to a local bar and ordered food and played pool and had drinks. I ordered a cheeseburger with the works and a side of onion rings which I washed down with a double Jack n Coke. We were having a great time. Playing pool, dancing, laughing, all was great. Then, out of nowhere, I got this God Awful pain in my chest. I could hardly breath it hurt so bad. We rushed to the hospital, I thought sure I was gonna die! After about two hours, this bubbly little nurse came in and said, "Honey, you have nothing to worry about, you're fine, You have heartburn because you are pregnant" Oh Shit! Now what!!!
I asked the nurse to bring Ricardo back while they were preparing my release papers and told him. You would have thought he won the lottery, but all he said was, "Well, I guess we're gonna have to get a better car and a nicer apartment." In my head I felt defeated. I was happy that I was going to be a mother, just not happy about who the father was. My plan to leave suddenly had a major kink!
How could I leave the father of my child. He hadn't actually hit me, he had threatened me, but he was actually kind of afraid of me. So there it was. I don't believe in abortion, and didn't want anything to do with adoption, so I was having a baby. I really wanted to make a go of this for my child. As the product of divorce, I had to at least try to make it work. It didn't last long. I had only two rules: Do Not Beat On Me, and Do Not Cheat. I caught him with a fourteen year old girl in MY car in a Wesco parking lot! I told her that I would find her again when she was old enough for an ass whoopin, and I told him I was packing my shit.
He said, "You can go, but you will not take that baby with you" It was on! I had run back up to the apartment to grab my loot and a couple things, and he showed up behind me. He tried it all. He grabbed my prenatal vitamins and threatened to take the whole bottle, laughing, I got him a glass of water. Then he did the please don't go, then he hit me. I knocked him on his ass and ran down to the car. He was stupid enough to follow. I was already in the car with it started, he was headed around the front end of the car when I drove it into him. I hit him hard enough to pin him against the wall of the house! I jumped out of the car with the keys, and into the truck and drove across town to my girl friends house. I had just enough time to tell her what was going on, and then he showed up. He tried to punch me in the stomach, but my friend grabbed him and literally threw him down a flight of seventeen concrete stairs. He got in the car and left. I gassed up the truck and I headed back to Houghton Lake where my mother was.
I felt like a failure. I had slept around for years. Thrown away good men and always found the "bad boys". They were more fun. Now, I was pregnant and single. I had no idea what to do. He called daily, begging me to come back, but all I could think of was my dad and the promise I had made. I knew that being from a divorced family was better than a violent family, so, that was literally the last night I ever saw him.
Sometimes, he would call and ask me to come home, other times he would offer to western union me money to help me buy things I needed before the baby came. He sent me a total of four hundred dollars. When the money didn't bring me home, he swore that once my son was born, he would find us and take him and go back to Mexico. I did a little research and found that if he did manage to pull it off, the chances that I would ever see my son again were slim to none.
I refused to put his name on my son's birth certificate so that he couldn't claim him at all. I sent him a few pictures, I felt it was only right. Then, I decided that it wasn't safe. I didn't want him to know what my son looked like. I would go to the ends of the earth for my son. No way was he going to be under the influence of that man!
When I was six months pregnant, I was introduced to my younger sister's soon to be brother in law. My sister and I had a thing for brothers. Not on purpose, but, it just seemed to work out that way often.
He was different than any other man in my life up to that point. He was a military man. He had served in Desert Storm, worked a legitimate full time job, and although he smoked a little pot, he didn't drink or anything like that! I felt the need to tell him that my son was half Mexican, for some, that is still a problem. He assured me that was no issue and that we would be fine. He was refreshing. I could set a clock by his routine. I was a house wife, but not under his thumb. I had dinner ready and on the table when he came home from work. Washed his back in the tub, I was really starting to enjoy this domestic house wife thing.
Then, about three weeks before my son was born, DJ was an hour late coming home from work. Evidently, it was car trouble. I believed him, he had never given me a reason not to. When my son was born, he was there. I don't think he even knew that he would have a problem with a Mexican child, but he did. It took a while for me to catch on, but I did. I should have known earlier, one of the first things his mother had said to me was, "You know, People that have mixed children go to hell. And so do their kids." She also told me I was too good for her son, that I needed to get away from him. I was dumbfounded.
Even though I had a rough childhood, my mom's mom was a very religious woman. She read the Bible a few times, never missed a day of church. I knew DJ's mom didn't know what she was talking about, but I was pissed! Especially since she was raising a child born to her husband and DJ's x wife while DJ was married to him. And they lied to the boy and pretended that he was her son. I think she was in a little more trouble than me in God's eyes. I was taught judgement was left to God, not man!
Things started changing more and more as Steven grew. He had jet black hair and chocolate eyes and light brown skin. DJ did nothing to help with him. I left Steven home with him while I went shopping for groceries in a snowstorm, and he left my son in a shitty diaper for two hours!!! Then he started coming home later and later. We went to his company Christmas party, and a hotel. I woke up around three am and found that he wasn't in our room. I waited until I heard him come to the room, then pretended to sleep when he entered. He went directly to the shower. I'm not stupid, I knew where he had been.
Still, I wanted to have a stable place for my son. I figured that it was just a stage and would pass, but over the next six months, it just got worse.
When I left DJ, Steve was about a year old. Again, I went home to Ludington. My Grandmother had asked my mom to come home and help with her house. She was 64, and working to pay two mortgages that she had drawn to help two of my aunt's that just left her hangin. My mom moved, and the following week, Grandma didn't get up for church. She was a Nurse, and had worked the night before, but it was very odd for Grandma to miss church. Mom went to her room to see if she was ok, and ultimately, she was better, just not here. She had passed away in the night. I came down for the funeral, and never went back.
I found a job almost immediately at a very good paying factory. I started as a temp making seven fifty an hour, that was almost a dollar over minimum wage! I was happy. My mom and my sister watched Steven while I worked, and I worked up to sixty hours a week. I was hired in full time after eight months, and my wage shot up to nine dollars an hour. I had a feeling that I couldn't be stopped.
I started buying a house about eight months later. I was drinking a lot back then, but there were rules. Steven could stay at mom's at night as long as I put him to bed and was back before breakfast. Second, no men around him. These were rules I agreed with whole hearted.
I met a man that worked at the same shop. He was a nice guy. He worked everyday, but never went out anywhere. He had never been married, no kids to pay support on, no criminal background except for loss of driver's license for OUIL. Even though he had lost his license, he did not drink much at all. I ran into him at my favorite bar (I was only 20) and took him home with me one night. We really didn't know each other. Had never even said hello before that night. He was such a gentleman that he slept on my couch. He never tried anything. I was absolutely different than any other man I had ever met! Imagine, a man that would be willing to sleep on the couch instead of take advantage of my drunken promiscuity! I had never met anyone like him.
A non drinking, hardworking, attractive, gentle, loving, attentive..........PEDOPHILE! Unfortunately, I was already married to him when I found out the pedophile part.
It was a whirlwind romance, he was smooth. I had an accident at work, and shattered my wrist. He moved in with me to help me while I was injured. We had only been together for about two months when he asked me to marry him. I said yes! At that point, I had no reason not to. We were married just four short months later. I was 21, he was 38. I told people, "age is just a number". That is pure bullshit! It's much more than that. He was a chameleon, he blended in with everyone. No one that met him didn't like him. We spent 99 percent of our time together. He treated me like we lived in a fairy tale and I was the princess. I hate that I never don't think about it. He gave me the world and put me on a pedestal and then, in one fail swoop ripped it all out from under me.
I found out later that he had been molesting children since he was about twelve years old. Rather than get him help, his family bounced him around from town to town, state to state, and relative to relative. When someone caught him molesting children, and I mean toddlers and younger usually, they would simply move him again.
I went into complete shock. I couldn't eat a single bite of food for a month, the smell made me vomit. I was in such shock, I didn't even function. I visited him in jail a couple of times, trying to make sense of what had happened to my perfect world. He had molested my cousin's daughter, she was seven. Then he confessed to me that he had been molesting a friend of his' daughter since she was two years old, she was about to turn ten.
He confessed to me all of his illness for one reason. In Michigan, a conversation between a husband and wife falls under a confidentiality clause. I could do nothing with the information he had given me. They would not grant me an annulment, I had to do a divorce. I even had to wait for the six month cooling period. He plead no contest to second degree csc, and served four years in a prison that is pedophiles only. They won't put them in a regular prison because even a murderer won't let a pedophile live. Yes, Michigan protects them! He did his four years and then did five years probation. Now he works in an ice cream factory of all places. He has a profile on face book, and has been to Romania as a missionary with a local church. You will find this story in different parts of my blog, because I don't know what else to do. His name is Arnold Hector Guzman. I don't care if I get in trouble for that, it's all true and he's registered..... The local police consider me to be a scorned ex wife, when in reality, I know that he will offend again, I'm sure he has already.
I had a very hard time of things for a while. I started drinking harder, and began doing cocaine. I did what ever it took to not think of what he had done. People don't understand what the wife (providing she's oblivious like I was) goes through in a situation like this.
There are many feelings.
1. How did I not see it? 2. Why didn't I notice this or that, it was actually right in front of me??! 3. The disgust that this man I loved touched little kids and then had sex with me. 4. The child(which is part of every thought you have) 5. What happened when he was alone with my child?
In hindsight, I should have noticed, but who thinks like that?
Then, why didn't the police investigate my house? I have a child, why didn't child protective services step in and ask questions?
Finally, I wish I had known before the police arrived. I would have killed him!!! Literally. My mother could raise my son. I took him to the doctor. No one offered me any kind of counselling or advocation, I had my mom and my dad. My son had no Physical signs of abuse, but I wonder if Arnold has something to do with the fact that my son has many phobias and is mildly autistic. I don't think the autism was caused by these events, but the fears...yes. Although, he was so young, I don't believe he remembers, and I pray he never does. Arnold had no gender preference. He simply preferred the younger the better. Easier to scare a seven year old, easier to train a two year old. I wish I could have testified against him, my testimony would have proven that the events that occurred were absolutely premeditated.
My mom and my dad and my sister helped me through this. Without them, I may not have survived it. I also clinged to an old boyfriend that I ran into just a month after Arnold's arrest. He was someone I had know most of my life, and he happened to be in the right place at the right time.
He is his own kind of asshole, but I can deal with his shit. He's just an alcoholic. He's got quite the mouth on him sometimes, but that is the extent of it. After 13 years, we are still going strong. Arnold lives in the same town that we do, and believe me, I keep an eye out for anything that looks suspicious. He is a sociopath, he has no remorse or guilt. In the last year, he has started showing up in places that he shouldn't. Like, where my mom works, passing my sisters house on a dead end road, following me around from time to time. Unfortunately, just knowing what he is isn't enough. He has to molest another child that can and will tell on him before anyone will do anything about him.
I suppose, that's enough for this one, but.... I assure you I have at least one more post to write in this blog. This is who I am and what made me who I am. It's not complete yet.
There is still some personal triumph to brag up! Thank you for reading!!
I wouldn't be 18 until February, and it was September, so I had to stay with friends until I could get a job. I didn't have to wait. We had a local bean plant that was run by almost all illegal aliens, they didn't even look at an id or ss card. They just hired people and paid them. It worked for me, I was making $6.90 an hour in 1993 working ten to twelve hour shifts seven days a week. To me, it was mad money! I would walk to work and then to the bar where I would play pool and double my weekly pay. Made a lot of men mad back then. I totally did the shark thing. Play for a drink, lose.. Up it to a buck, lose.... five bucks, lose miserably, then some ass would get cocky and offer a twenty to one bet and I'd wipe the table clean in one shot.... just run em out... LOL... I played pool for six or more hours everyday. Even the worst pool player will get good doin that!
After a few months, I started seeing this guy around town. I was actually in Scottville, which is like eight miles east of Ludington. One stop light, two bars, a restaurant, a pharmacy, and a craft store. It was about two blocks long. Needless to say, when a new face appeared everyone noticed. I had seen him at the pay phone a couple times, then he started coming into the bar I spent all of my time in. We started talking, or trying to anyway. He was from Mexico, he could barely say my name. Something about him attracted me immediately. Who cares about the language, communication is far more than words, I could learn as we went.
We started seeing each other and I was completely twitterpated! I quit my job three times in one week so that I could spend time with him. They hired me back each time I quit....LOL... This particular factory was known for that kind of thing. I was working on buying a car, but got stopped with illegal tags and no insurance. Thank God the cop didn't search the car, I had two ounces of pot under my seat. He cut me a break because I was still in my hairnet, hardhat, and swamp boots. I told him I was headed home and he said get there and park it, but the tickets I did get cost more than the amount I owed on the car! Fortunately, I was buying the car from my cousin on payments, and he agreed to take the car back, no hard feelings... Of course, this meant I was back on foot. It was only two miles to work, no big deal. I was also only ten miles to Ludington beach, so when I wasn't hustlin pool, I would walk down to the beach and usually slept there in the sand. I actually enjoyed it. The walks were peaceful, the waves at the beach were gorgeous, and it was just a nice place to be.
The guy I was seeing was becoming very controlling, but I was sure I could handle him. I sure as hell wasn't afraid of him. He decided that he would rent an apartment in Ludington, at first it was so I could find a better paying job. I enjoyed factory work. Many people don't understand that, but at my age and in the time, two hundred dollars a week seemed like a butt load of money. I temped at a couple of the factories, one did Styrofoam craft supplies, the rest were foundry's and auto parts places. I worked for a little while, then Rick decided I should be home. This is where things started to get a little hairy.
I didn't like not working. I had worked most of my life already, and I enjoyed the satisfaction of making my own money. I worked hard at every job I held. When I stopped working, I lost my freedom. He paid the bills and bought me things, but I was not happy. On the weekends, there were always men in the house playing poker and drinking. Rick sucked at poker, but it was a "man's game". I had picked up enough Spanish to understand some of the more important stuff, like when he bet me as a part of the pot in a hand that he lost. I explained that it was only right that I be allowed to play once I was part of the pot. They let me in. I had started learning to play poker when I was about seven. I knew exactly what I was doing, and I knew not to let on about it. By the end of the game, I had won myself and his paycheck back and then some. That was the one and only time I ever got to play with the guys.
Things started getting stranger. One night, when Rick got home from work, my oldest brother was in the apartment. Rick flipped (after my brother left). He accused me of sleeping with my brother! He screamed and yelled and forbid me to have male company in the apartment when he was gone. Then, he forbid me to leave the house alone. This didn't work for me. I was an adult, I had a vehicle, and I sure as hell wasn't gonna tell my brother he couldn't come and visit me. I was too embarrassed to tell anyone what was going on.
I had decided I was going to pack my stuff while he was at work and leave. He came home early, and drunk. He apologized and begged me to stay. When he was standing there in front of me tears streaming down his face, I promised I would stay. I was raised to never make a promise you don't intend to keep, so there I was.
Over the next two weeks, things were just up and down. One night, a few of the poker guys showed up. Rick said he had to go out for a bit, and not to worry, he wouldn't be long. Four hours later, he came home a bloody, almost unrecognizable mess. I didn't do the math quite yet. Later, I found out, I had gotten myself into an even rougher group of people than the drug dealers in Houghton Lake. These guys were from Chicago, and very organized!!! If you get my meaning. I had no idea that Rick was a drug dealer, evidently, he hadn't payed what he owed in cash, so they took it out of his ass! That was it, I knew I had to get out, but I also knew I would have to leave Ludington to do so. I had a plan. I just had to raise some money without him finding out about it. I had become a prisoner in just a few short months and I was planning my escape. I did things I am not proud of to raise the money..... No not prostitution, I would wait for him to pass out and take money from him. Not something I am proud of, even sixteen years later. We had a car, and a truck, I just had to bide my time. I needed about eight hundred dollars to move, and I was gonna get it.
Meanwhile, I had to be the subservient house wife type. If he wanted sex, food, laundry, whatever, I did it. The first time he assaulted me, he had come home from work, and because I was taking a nap, he accused me of cheating on him. Talk about insecure! He screamed and yelled, but never approached me from the front. He was telling me to pack my shit and go, so I grabbed a box and started packing my clothes. He would come toward me from behind, but as soon as I heard him and turned around, he would just start screaming at me and calling me names again.
I sat down on the floor and was folding and packing clothes when he came up behind me and grabbed me by the hair. This didn't hurt, I had two brothers, one was six years older, the other was eight years older. They had made sure my skull was invincible by the time I was ten. I looked up at him and calmly said, "If you don't unhand me, I'm gonna get up and beat the fuck outta you". With a look of surprise, he let go, then the begging started. "please don't go! I love you and I promise it'll get better". I still needed about three hundred dollars, so I let it go.
The next day, he came in trashed again. My dad had stopped over, so I felt pretty safe. Out of nowhere Rick started freakin out again. He threw a beer bottle at my head, and missed. My dad went to grab a hold of him, but I told him I could handle it. I hit the dick head with a lamp. You know, the old heavy hourglass shaped solid lamps. He slept for a few hours. When he woke up, I told him I had had it. I was leaving if things didn't change. Again with the crying and begging.
He went to work the next day and came home sober. He wanted to take me out for dinner to apologize. Ok, I'll go out to dinner. We went to a local bar and ordered food and played pool and had drinks. I ordered a cheeseburger with the works and a side of onion rings which I washed down with a double Jack n Coke. We were having a great time. Playing pool, dancing, laughing, all was great. Then, out of nowhere, I got this God Awful pain in my chest. I could hardly breath it hurt so bad. We rushed to the hospital, I thought sure I was gonna die! After about two hours, this bubbly little nurse came in and said, "Honey, you have nothing to worry about, you're fine, You have heartburn because you are pregnant" Oh Shit! Now what!!!
I asked the nurse to bring Ricardo back while they were preparing my release papers and told him. You would have thought he won the lottery, but all he said was, "Well, I guess we're gonna have to get a better car and a nicer apartment." In my head I felt defeated. I was happy that I was going to be a mother, just not happy about who the father was. My plan to leave suddenly had a major kink!
How could I leave the father of my child. He hadn't actually hit me, he had threatened me, but he was actually kind of afraid of me. So there it was. I don't believe in abortion, and didn't want anything to do with adoption, so I was having a baby. I really wanted to make a go of this for my child. As the product of divorce, I had to at least try to make it work. It didn't last long. I had only two rules: Do Not Beat On Me, and Do Not Cheat. I caught him with a fourteen year old girl in MY car in a Wesco parking lot! I told her that I would find her again when she was old enough for an ass whoopin, and I told him I was packing my shit.
He said, "You can go, but you will not take that baby with you" It was on! I had run back up to the apartment to grab my loot and a couple things, and he showed up behind me. He tried it all. He grabbed my prenatal vitamins and threatened to take the whole bottle, laughing, I got him a glass of water. Then he did the please don't go, then he hit me. I knocked him on his ass and ran down to the car. He was stupid enough to follow. I was already in the car with it started, he was headed around the front end of the car when I drove it into him. I hit him hard enough to pin him against the wall of the house! I jumped out of the car with the keys, and into the truck and drove across town to my girl friends house. I had just enough time to tell her what was going on, and then he showed up. He tried to punch me in the stomach, but my friend grabbed him and literally threw him down a flight of seventeen concrete stairs. He got in the car and left. I gassed up the truck and I headed back to Houghton Lake where my mother was.
I felt like a failure. I had slept around for years. Thrown away good men and always found the "bad boys". They were more fun. Now, I was pregnant and single. I had no idea what to do. He called daily, begging me to come back, but all I could think of was my dad and the promise I had made. I knew that being from a divorced family was better than a violent family, so, that was literally the last night I ever saw him.
Sometimes, he would call and ask me to come home, other times he would offer to western union me money to help me buy things I needed before the baby came. He sent me a total of four hundred dollars. When the money didn't bring me home, he swore that once my son was born, he would find us and take him and go back to Mexico. I did a little research and found that if he did manage to pull it off, the chances that I would ever see my son again were slim to none.
I refused to put his name on my son's birth certificate so that he couldn't claim him at all. I sent him a few pictures, I felt it was only right. Then, I decided that it wasn't safe. I didn't want him to know what my son looked like. I would go to the ends of the earth for my son. No way was he going to be under the influence of that man!
When I was six months pregnant, I was introduced to my younger sister's soon to be brother in law. My sister and I had a thing for brothers. Not on purpose, but, it just seemed to work out that way often.
He was different than any other man in my life up to that point. He was a military man. He had served in Desert Storm, worked a legitimate full time job, and although he smoked a little pot, he didn't drink or anything like that! I felt the need to tell him that my son was half Mexican, for some, that is still a problem. He assured me that was no issue and that we would be fine. He was refreshing. I could set a clock by his routine. I was a house wife, but not under his thumb. I had dinner ready and on the table when he came home from work. Washed his back in the tub, I was really starting to enjoy this domestic house wife thing.
Then, about three weeks before my son was born, DJ was an hour late coming home from work. Evidently, it was car trouble. I believed him, he had never given me a reason not to. When my son was born, he was there. I don't think he even knew that he would have a problem with a Mexican child, but he did. It took a while for me to catch on, but I did. I should have known earlier, one of the first things his mother had said to me was, "You know, People that have mixed children go to hell. And so do their kids." She also told me I was too good for her son, that I needed to get away from him. I was dumbfounded.
Even though I had a rough childhood, my mom's mom was a very religious woman. She read the Bible a few times, never missed a day of church. I knew DJ's mom didn't know what she was talking about, but I was pissed! Especially since she was raising a child born to her husband and DJ's x wife while DJ was married to him. And they lied to the boy and pretended that he was her son. I think she was in a little more trouble than me in God's eyes. I was taught judgement was left to God, not man!
Things started changing more and more as Steven grew. He had jet black hair and chocolate eyes and light brown skin. DJ did nothing to help with him. I left Steven home with him while I went shopping for groceries in a snowstorm, and he left my son in a shitty diaper for two hours!!! Then he started coming home later and later. We went to his company Christmas party, and a hotel. I woke up around three am and found that he wasn't in our room. I waited until I heard him come to the room, then pretended to sleep when he entered. He went directly to the shower. I'm not stupid, I knew where he had been.
Still, I wanted to have a stable place for my son. I figured that it was just a stage and would pass, but over the next six months, it just got worse.
When I left DJ, Steve was about a year old. Again, I went home to Ludington. My Grandmother had asked my mom to come home and help with her house. She was 64, and working to pay two mortgages that she had drawn to help two of my aunt's that just left her hangin. My mom moved, and the following week, Grandma didn't get up for church. She was a Nurse, and had worked the night before, but it was very odd for Grandma to miss church. Mom went to her room to see if she was ok, and ultimately, she was better, just not here. She had passed away in the night. I came down for the funeral, and never went back.
I found a job almost immediately at a very good paying factory. I started as a temp making seven fifty an hour, that was almost a dollar over minimum wage! I was happy. My mom and my sister watched Steven while I worked, and I worked up to sixty hours a week. I was hired in full time after eight months, and my wage shot up to nine dollars an hour. I had a feeling that I couldn't be stopped.
I started buying a house about eight months later. I was drinking a lot back then, but there were rules. Steven could stay at mom's at night as long as I put him to bed and was back before breakfast. Second, no men around him. These were rules I agreed with whole hearted.
I met a man that worked at the same shop. He was a nice guy. He worked everyday, but never went out anywhere. He had never been married, no kids to pay support on, no criminal background except for loss of driver's license for OUIL. Even though he had lost his license, he did not drink much at all. I ran into him at my favorite bar (I was only 20) and took him home with me one night. We really didn't know each other. Had never even said hello before that night. He was such a gentleman that he slept on my couch. He never tried anything. I was absolutely different than any other man I had ever met! Imagine, a man that would be willing to sleep on the couch instead of take advantage of my drunken promiscuity! I had never met anyone like him.
A non drinking, hardworking, attractive, gentle, loving, attentive..........PEDOPHILE! Unfortunately, I was already married to him when I found out the pedophile part.
It was a whirlwind romance, he was smooth. I had an accident at work, and shattered my wrist. He moved in with me to help me while I was injured. We had only been together for about two months when he asked me to marry him. I said yes! At that point, I had no reason not to. We were married just four short months later. I was 21, he was 38. I told people, "age is just a number". That is pure bullshit! It's much more than that. He was a chameleon, he blended in with everyone. No one that met him didn't like him. We spent 99 percent of our time together. He treated me like we lived in a fairy tale and I was the princess. I hate that I never don't think about it. He gave me the world and put me on a pedestal and then, in one fail swoop ripped it all out from under me.
I found out later that he had been molesting children since he was about twelve years old. Rather than get him help, his family bounced him around from town to town, state to state, and relative to relative. When someone caught him molesting children, and I mean toddlers and younger usually, they would simply move him again.
I went into complete shock. I couldn't eat a single bite of food for a month, the smell made me vomit. I was in such shock, I didn't even function. I visited him in jail a couple of times, trying to make sense of what had happened to my perfect world. He had molested my cousin's daughter, she was seven. Then he confessed to me that he had been molesting a friend of his' daughter since she was two years old, she was about to turn ten.
He confessed to me all of his illness for one reason. In Michigan, a conversation between a husband and wife falls under a confidentiality clause. I could do nothing with the information he had given me. They would not grant me an annulment, I had to do a divorce. I even had to wait for the six month cooling period. He plead no contest to second degree csc, and served four years in a prison that is pedophiles only. They won't put them in a regular prison because even a murderer won't let a pedophile live. Yes, Michigan protects them! He did his four years and then did five years probation. Now he works in an ice cream factory of all places. He has a profile on face book, and has been to Romania as a missionary with a local church. You will find this story in different parts of my blog, because I don't know what else to do. His name is Arnold Hector Guzman. I don't care if I get in trouble for that, it's all true and he's registered..... The local police consider me to be a scorned ex wife, when in reality, I know that he will offend again, I'm sure he has already.
I had a very hard time of things for a while. I started drinking harder, and began doing cocaine. I did what ever it took to not think of what he had done. People don't understand what the wife (providing she's oblivious like I was) goes through in a situation like this.
There are many feelings.
1. How did I not see it? 2. Why didn't I notice this or that, it was actually right in front of me??! 3. The disgust that this man I loved touched little kids and then had sex with me. 4. The child(which is part of every thought you have) 5. What happened when he was alone with my child?
In hindsight, I should have noticed, but who thinks like that?
Then, why didn't the police investigate my house? I have a child, why didn't child protective services step in and ask questions?
Finally, I wish I had known before the police arrived. I would have killed him!!! Literally. My mother could raise my son. I took him to the doctor. No one offered me any kind of counselling or advocation, I had my mom and my dad. My son had no Physical signs of abuse, but I wonder if Arnold has something to do with the fact that my son has many phobias and is mildly autistic. I don't think the autism was caused by these events, but the fears...yes. Although, he was so young, I don't believe he remembers, and I pray he never does. Arnold had no gender preference. He simply preferred the younger the better. Easier to scare a seven year old, easier to train a two year old. I wish I could have testified against him, my testimony would have proven that the events that occurred were absolutely premeditated.
My mom and my dad and my sister helped me through this. Without them, I may not have survived it. I also clinged to an old boyfriend that I ran into just a month after Arnold's arrest. He was someone I had know most of my life, and he happened to be in the right place at the right time.
He is his own kind of asshole, but I can deal with his shit. He's just an alcoholic. He's got quite the mouth on him sometimes, but that is the extent of it. After 13 years, we are still going strong. Arnold lives in the same town that we do, and believe me, I keep an eye out for anything that looks suspicious. He is a sociopath, he has no remorse or guilt. In the last year, he has started showing up in places that he shouldn't. Like, where my mom works, passing my sisters house on a dead end road, following me around from time to time. Unfortunately, just knowing what he is isn't enough. He has to molest another child that can and will tell on him before anyone will do anything about him.
I suppose, that's enough for this one, but.... I assure you I have at least one more post to write in this blog. This is who I am and what made me who I am. It's not complete yet.
There is still some personal triumph to brag up! Thank you for reading!!
Friday, January 7, 2011
Good Time Charlie
Sorry if I left anyone hanging. I decided I wanted to think this section out a little more. In case you can't tell, my writing is spontaneous, unedited, and there will undoubtedly be repeated facts.
I really loved the way I lived in Houghton Lake. I was in a place where the odds of being related to anyone other than My mom, brother, or one sister were slim to none! I loved that. As I said before, I had my own home, but my mom was still around. She helped me with the bills because my sister was with me, and often would pick up our laundry as if she were running a laundry service. My mom has always been pretty awesome! She had taught us to take care of ourselves very well, very young.
She wanted more for us than she had been able to provide. Although I blew it off, I really did enjoy school. I just never wanted anybody to know that. I decided to go to back to the adult education center and take my GED. At least I would be able to attend a community college this way.
While in school, I was taking a "new" program provided to undergrads by the government. I was in a Nurse Aide and EMT licensing program. I was doing well. I was paying my bills and going to school, but I wasn't working. I was a serious party hound. I did fill in as an emergency bar tender for several of the local bars. I have a knack for bar tending. I can take an eight drink order and remember it until I have it completed without blinking an eye. I made Mad Money during the annual Tip Up Town festival!! Anyway, keep in mind, I was still only 16 at the time. That added a lot of excitement, because I was able to convince all of these people that I was 21. I still laugh about that.
One night, my buddy wanted to go to our favorite hang out. I was a good sized bar, probably about 120 capacity. It was a mix of Country and Rock and Roll, the perfect place for me. The bar was huge, a horseshoe big enough to split between two bartenders without a problem. The pool table was in the back by a nice wood dance floor, and the back door and restrooms. It was the equivalent of a bike bar, but there aren't many bikers in Houghton Lake, they do the snowmobile thing up there. That is one thing I really missed. I had been around bike clubs my whole life, and up north they are not the same.
I came from a wild life, and liked it. I didn't have to fight more than once. I had been bullied for many years, about 15 when it stopped. That one fight stopped me from ever fighting again. I beat the hell out of the target and two of my friends, with NO recollection of what happened. She was hospitalized, and I thought it better not to ever hurt anyone like that again.
I found the roughest crowd I could up there, and that's who I became closest too. It was years later before I found out just how dangerous my friends had been. Another reason for no names......
So, we go to the bar. We're hanging out at our usual table in by the dance floor. Playing pool, drinkin, and dancin, and just having a blast. A couple of guys walk in and come right up to me and my friend. I'm checking this guy out. He's got long, straight, white-blond hair; a body that just won't stop; and the bluest eyes I have ever seen. He was about 5'6", which is fine, I'm only 5'2", and I wanted him. He had this little touch of asshole, and I liked it...lol. I had no idea at the time, that I had been set up. He was there to meet me. OOOOOhhhhh Man!!!! Sealed, no need to even ask.
I'm just gonna call him Charlie. It's better for everyone that way.
We hang out for a while longer, we're sitting at the table and Charlie hands me a lit doobie! I'm just like WTF!! Not that I hadn't been smoking for a few years, but IN THE BAR???? A little shit eatin grin, and I was in. After a few hours of dancing and pool, we decide to take a ride. When we get outside, I am simply in love! He's got a souped up El Camino. Gloss Black and bad to the bone. The first the he says is, "wanna drive it?" Hell yea I do!!! Off we went. We headed out to my girlfriend's house for a little more partyin. It was about a 20 mile drive, and we came up to some kid in an I-Rock. Charlie says to me, " wanna race him?" I'm just pumped, he says, " you just do what I tell you and keep her straight, I'll shift " so the light turns green and we're off! I had NEVER driven anything that fast before, then he said "hang on tight" and hit the button I didn't even know was there! What a rush, my first taste of nitrous was soooo sweet. We blew that kid away like he'd never moved. In my head, I really wanted to get to know this guy better.
We had an amazing night, and he said he'd get ahold of me the next night. My buddy was happy too. The set up was a success.
We spent about three months together, when one day he says, "I left you a surprise on your nightstand, follow the directions. See you tonight." It was two lines of cocaine with a note. It explained how to do it and about how long to wait to do a little more. Just a little at a time, and later he would show me a few other things. What the hell. I was almost 17, curiosity got the best of me I guess. I tried it. No real big deal. I liked to smoke weed, cocaine made my weed buzz go away. I wasn't stupid. I had been around drugs for many years. I had just never tried it before. I did the two lines throughout the day, and that night we had a small party. My sister was seein his brother, they were there, a few other exclusive couples, and it went on for three days! We kept it quiet that we were seeing each other because they were older and we didn't want any trouble for them because of our ages. It was a big mystery back then. Charlie acted like it was a big deal the difference our ages, but I found out later that he's only 6 years older than me. His older brother was seeing my younger sister though...LOL. My mother had decided she couldn't stop us anyway, but we still kept it quiet.
We went to parties or to the bar together. Went out of town just about every weekend. And then one day, I find out why I never go to his house. He has a live in girlfriend who is like 2 months pregnant. I was bummed. I had fallen in love with him. I couldn't believe it, but, they also had a three year old. Evidently, he always kept one on the side. I was the one for a while. Some people had even thought that he may leave her because of me. At the time, I hoped he would. Today, I'm glad he didn't. We spent more than 8 months together, even after I found out about her. I didn't care. It wasn't my fault, I didn't know about her, and come to find out she knew about me! I guess she had been forbidden to contact me, and so she didn't. I would never put up with that kind of shit out of any man! He introduced me to many things. He taught me a lot, and we are still friends. Just not the kind we were back then. Neither of us do drugs anymore. He's still building cars and racing. I quit drinking. I guess I just grew up. We had a crazy kind of relationship, but I would do it over. He told me the day we called it quits, that, "if I could be the kind of man to be good to one woman, she would be you. I love you, no matter what, but you deserve so much more."
That was that. I moved out of Houghton Lake. It was time to come back to Ludington. I needed to get away from the people I had made friends with, but wanted to remain friends with. I haven't been to Houghton Lake in more than 10 years, but I think about things from time to time and I wonder what would have happened if Charlie and I hadn't parted ways. I imagine I wouldn't be here writing this today. Fast cars, drugs, and money are the quickest way to lose everything. That's why I left town. I was so close to being arrested it wasn't even funny. I had pushed my luck and my new found "power" a little too far. I was 17 at the time, and my mom agreed that maybe going home to Ludington was the best thing for me at the time.
I had decided I wasn't capable of working in Nursing Homes, I never even took the tests. I didn't want to spend my life on call as an EMT, I had more important things to do back then. When I look back, I don't think I would have been a very good EMT, I am too emotional for that. I tried the CENA thing for a while, but no matter what, I always seem to get attached to the people I took care of, and having it as a job was emotionally unhealthy for me.
Ok, I'm gonna let this be for a while. The next part gets a little crazy and even more confusing, so let this sink in, and know, I left out a million details on purpose. Yes, I want to share. No, I don''t want to give you the whole package. I am still working on a book you know....
I really loved the way I lived in Houghton Lake. I was in a place where the odds of being related to anyone other than My mom, brother, or one sister were slim to none! I loved that. As I said before, I had my own home, but my mom was still around. She helped me with the bills because my sister was with me, and often would pick up our laundry as if she were running a laundry service. My mom has always been pretty awesome! She had taught us to take care of ourselves very well, very young.
She wanted more for us than she had been able to provide. Although I blew it off, I really did enjoy school. I just never wanted anybody to know that. I decided to go to back to the adult education center and take my GED. At least I would be able to attend a community college this way.
While in school, I was taking a "new" program provided to undergrads by the government. I was in a Nurse Aide and EMT licensing program. I was doing well. I was paying my bills and going to school, but I wasn't working. I was a serious party hound. I did fill in as an emergency bar tender for several of the local bars. I have a knack for bar tending. I can take an eight drink order and remember it until I have it completed without blinking an eye. I made Mad Money during the annual Tip Up Town festival!! Anyway, keep in mind, I was still only 16 at the time. That added a lot of excitement, because I was able to convince all of these people that I was 21. I still laugh about that.
One night, my buddy wanted to go to our favorite hang out. I was a good sized bar, probably about 120 capacity. It was a mix of Country and Rock and Roll, the perfect place for me. The bar was huge, a horseshoe big enough to split between two bartenders without a problem. The pool table was in the back by a nice wood dance floor, and the back door and restrooms. It was the equivalent of a bike bar, but there aren't many bikers in Houghton Lake, they do the snowmobile thing up there. That is one thing I really missed. I had been around bike clubs my whole life, and up north they are not the same.
I came from a wild life, and liked it. I didn't have to fight more than once. I had been bullied for many years, about 15 when it stopped. That one fight stopped me from ever fighting again. I beat the hell out of the target and two of my friends, with NO recollection of what happened. She was hospitalized, and I thought it better not to ever hurt anyone like that again.
I found the roughest crowd I could up there, and that's who I became closest too. It was years later before I found out just how dangerous my friends had been. Another reason for no names......
So, we go to the bar. We're hanging out at our usual table in by the dance floor. Playing pool, drinkin, and dancin, and just having a blast. A couple of guys walk in and come right up to me and my friend. I'm checking this guy out. He's got long, straight, white-blond hair; a body that just won't stop; and the bluest eyes I have ever seen. He was about 5'6", which is fine, I'm only 5'2", and I wanted him. He had this little touch of asshole, and I liked it...lol. I had no idea at the time, that I had been set up. He was there to meet me. OOOOOhhhhh Man!!!! Sealed, no need to even ask.
I'm just gonna call him Charlie. It's better for everyone that way.
We hang out for a while longer, we're sitting at the table and Charlie hands me a lit doobie! I'm just like WTF!! Not that I hadn't been smoking for a few years, but IN THE BAR???? A little shit eatin grin, and I was in. After a few hours of dancing and pool, we decide to take a ride. When we get outside, I am simply in love! He's got a souped up El Camino. Gloss Black and bad to the bone. The first the he says is, "wanna drive it?" Hell yea I do!!! Off we went. We headed out to my girlfriend's house for a little more partyin. It was about a 20 mile drive, and we came up to some kid in an I-Rock. Charlie says to me, " wanna race him?" I'm just pumped, he says, " you just do what I tell you and keep her straight, I'll shift " so the light turns green and we're off! I had NEVER driven anything that fast before, then he said "hang on tight" and hit the button I didn't even know was there! What a rush, my first taste of nitrous was soooo sweet. We blew that kid away like he'd never moved. In my head, I really wanted to get to know this guy better.
We had an amazing night, and he said he'd get ahold of me the next night. My buddy was happy too. The set up was a success.
We spent about three months together, when one day he says, "I left you a surprise on your nightstand, follow the directions. See you tonight." It was two lines of cocaine with a note. It explained how to do it and about how long to wait to do a little more. Just a little at a time, and later he would show me a few other things. What the hell. I was almost 17, curiosity got the best of me I guess. I tried it. No real big deal. I liked to smoke weed, cocaine made my weed buzz go away. I wasn't stupid. I had been around drugs for many years. I had just never tried it before. I did the two lines throughout the day, and that night we had a small party. My sister was seein his brother, they were there, a few other exclusive couples, and it went on for three days! We kept it quiet that we were seeing each other because they were older and we didn't want any trouble for them because of our ages. It was a big mystery back then. Charlie acted like it was a big deal the difference our ages, but I found out later that he's only 6 years older than me. His older brother was seeing my younger sister though...LOL. My mother had decided she couldn't stop us anyway, but we still kept it quiet.
We went to parties or to the bar together. Went out of town just about every weekend. And then one day, I find out why I never go to his house. He has a live in girlfriend who is like 2 months pregnant. I was bummed. I had fallen in love with him. I couldn't believe it, but, they also had a three year old. Evidently, he always kept one on the side. I was the one for a while. Some people had even thought that he may leave her because of me. At the time, I hoped he would. Today, I'm glad he didn't. We spent more than 8 months together, even after I found out about her. I didn't care. It wasn't my fault, I didn't know about her, and come to find out she knew about me! I guess she had been forbidden to contact me, and so she didn't. I would never put up with that kind of shit out of any man! He introduced me to many things. He taught me a lot, and we are still friends. Just not the kind we were back then. Neither of us do drugs anymore. He's still building cars and racing. I quit drinking. I guess I just grew up. We had a crazy kind of relationship, but I would do it over. He told me the day we called it quits, that, "if I could be the kind of man to be good to one woman, she would be you. I love you, no matter what, but you deserve so much more."
That was that. I moved out of Houghton Lake. It was time to come back to Ludington. I needed to get away from the people I had made friends with, but wanted to remain friends with. I haven't been to Houghton Lake in more than 10 years, but I think about things from time to time and I wonder what would have happened if Charlie and I hadn't parted ways. I imagine I wouldn't be here writing this today. Fast cars, drugs, and money are the quickest way to lose everything. That's why I left town. I was so close to being arrested it wasn't even funny. I had pushed my luck and my new found "power" a little too far. I was 17 at the time, and my mom agreed that maybe going home to Ludington was the best thing for me at the time.
I had decided I wasn't capable of working in Nursing Homes, I never even took the tests. I didn't want to spend my life on call as an EMT, I had more important things to do back then. When I look back, I don't think I would have been a very good EMT, I am too emotional for that. I tried the CENA thing for a while, but no matter what, I always seem to get attached to the people I took care of, and having it as a job was emotionally unhealthy for me.
Ok, I'm gonna let this be for a while. The next part gets a little crazy and even more confusing, so let this sink in, and know, I left out a million details on purpose. Yes, I want to share. No, I don''t want to give you the whole package. I am still working on a book you know....
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Life Changing Relationships
I was a party girl, a fighter, and into my own version of "women's lib". I felt it was wrong that my brother could "play" multiple women and be congratulated, while I was expected to be a "lady" or be labeled a whore! So I decided to conquer the world, or Houghton Lake at least. And I did. Being a full blown alcoholic definitely helped in my endeavours. I doubt I would have had the nerve without "Uncle Jack" holdin my hand. I would just pick a guy and go get him. My success rate was staggering! I had watched my brothers for years, I had my own version of their game. It was almost like a "who can do more" competition! I was smooth. People never talked bad about me, I got along with almost everyone! I say almost, because there are always gonna be some people that dislike you.
I had a couple rules. I would not with any man that I knew was in a relationship. That doesn't mean that I asked everyone either though. The other rule, no group sex. Just not my thing. The obvious rules applied, no weird shit with animals, no under aged guys (even though I was under aged) ABSOLUTELY NO MARRIED MEN. Pretty much anything else was a go. I chose the men that I went with. I would look around and find one I liked and it was on. Sometimes, things didn't turn out the way I wanted, but they usually did.
My boyfriend and I were together for about four months when he had to leave for three weeks to work in Florida. I was happy to see him go, he hadn't worked in two months! I've always had a thing for construction workers and cowboys. Obviously, this one was a construction worker. He was a brick layer, and he did beautiful work. He was probably seven years older that me. We got along great, but we were always drunk, and he was the guy that was the big idiot every time he got drunk. He would do such stupid shit.
One night that sticks out was a bonfire on New Year's Eve, The fire was huge! Maybe the biggest so far. People had brought pallets, and furniture, as well as about a twenty foot oak tree that they cut in three sections. Someone had actually brought a bobcat out in the woods and dug a huge fire pit in the ground. Now keep in mind, these parties happened in the woods..... It was like a huge clearing in the shape off an egg surrounded by giant pine trees. It was huge, the fire, even as big as it was 40 degree incline that people would drive small cars, dune buggies, or dirt bikes up. It was craziness! So, we're at this party, Dummy is doing his usual shit, keg stands, climbing trees and jumping out, and then someone bet him he couldn't jump the fire. Evidently, jumping over bonfires was one of the things he was notorious for! That was a game up there. the guys would get drunk and bet who could walk the fire! So, just before someone bet Dummy, this other local dude walks to the center of the pile and is standing inside of the fire. That's not really as amazing as it sounds, the center of the wood wasn't actually on fire, it was like a ring, once he ran through the outside ring, he was in the clear. So once the bet was made, Dummy headed for the fire. He started running, for some reason JUMPED as he entered the fire, and crash, he fell. It is beyond me that he didn't get hurt worse than he did. He jumps up, runs the rest of the way through the fire, and comes over by me. He still has coals in his knee! I'm thinking it's hospital time, of course, he refuses. We pick the coals out of his skin and he goes back to drinkin. He did collect his ten dollars too.
While he was in Florida, I went to the bar one night with the girls. I met a new group of people that night. I was unaware that I was set up on a date. I was only 16, but there wasn't a single bar that I couldn't drink in. I went out all the time.
This is when my life would go through a major change once again!
I had a couple rules. I would not with any man that I knew was in a relationship. That doesn't mean that I asked everyone either though. The other rule, no group sex. Just not my thing. The obvious rules applied, no weird shit with animals, no under aged guys (even though I was under aged) ABSOLUTELY NO MARRIED MEN. Pretty much anything else was a go. I chose the men that I went with. I would look around and find one I liked and it was on. Sometimes, things didn't turn out the way I wanted, but they usually did.
My boyfriend and I were together for about four months when he had to leave for three weeks to work in Florida. I was happy to see him go, he hadn't worked in two months! I've always had a thing for construction workers and cowboys. Obviously, this one was a construction worker. He was a brick layer, and he did beautiful work. He was probably seven years older that me. We got along great, but we were always drunk, and he was the guy that was the big idiot every time he got drunk. He would do such stupid shit.
One night that sticks out was a bonfire on New Year's Eve, The fire was huge! Maybe the biggest so far. People had brought pallets, and furniture, as well as about a twenty foot oak tree that they cut in three sections. Someone had actually brought a bobcat out in the woods and dug a huge fire pit in the ground. Now keep in mind, these parties happened in the woods..... It was like a huge clearing in the shape off an egg surrounded by giant pine trees. It was huge, the fire, even as big as it was 40 degree incline that people would drive small cars, dune buggies, or dirt bikes up. It was craziness! So, we're at this party, Dummy is doing his usual shit, keg stands, climbing trees and jumping out, and then someone bet him he couldn't jump the fire. Evidently, jumping over bonfires was one of the things he was notorious for! That was a game up there. the guys would get drunk and bet who could walk the fire! So, just before someone bet Dummy, this other local dude walks to the center of the pile and is standing inside of the fire. That's not really as amazing as it sounds, the center of the wood wasn't actually on fire, it was like a ring, once he ran through the outside ring, he was in the clear. So once the bet was made, Dummy headed for the fire. He started running, for some reason JUMPED as he entered the fire, and crash, he fell. It is beyond me that he didn't get hurt worse than he did. He jumps up, runs the rest of the way through the fire, and comes over by me. He still has coals in his knee! I'm thinking it's hospital time, of course, he refuses. We pick the coals out of his skin and he goes back to drinkin. He did collect his ten dollars too.
While he was in Florida, I went to the bar one night with the girls. I met a new group of people that night. I was unaware that I was set up on a date. I was only 16, but there wasn't a single bar that I couldn't drink in. I went out all the time.
This is when my life would go through a major change once again!
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