Incestuous
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Template About Selling My Car
(Published in the Daily Reporter on 8/25/1910)
has a hidden silence, a distant smile ... the crunch of ash, the wandering of lilies, the bustle barefoot screaming every time his irreverence grins to warm his past. There is a perennial fear of climbing the hours an incomplete truth permeating the bones ... the same fear as a child, nestled in the place of hope. Is the same time and same galling breeze. The same corner, the famous escape ... the alcohol as an excuse and convenience. There is also an emotion, a cold, old hurricane stirring day. Past a shelf, a pen and failures ... future depending always on the same sadness. He has known all perversions. From an incestuous relationship which was forced from very young, through drug trafficking and consumption, and belong to a criminal gang specializing in "arrebatones" ladies, coming out of the banks ... an alcoholic who suffers and, in undertaken a regeneration step, is to begin to overcome 50 years ... a new life cycle. Sexual dysfunction product of incestuous rape him simulate a pleasure never felt, when he wanted a pair. Arrested several times, today is the only survivor of that band to which he belonged and which was played life many times. It is left with no sense of emotion, the usual start, the energy wasted in vain ... running through his mind. This need to send to remember those wanting to leave without knowing if he returned, to overwhelm, to plant an adventure in every pore, to scrutinize in the summers, to quench thirst, to abolish the censorship ... to live as he lived ... limitless frames or law, no family, no references. However, when up to half a century, when the serenity of life begins to show on the face tolls caring for their grandchildren, they have to cherish the environment of the waiver. Leave behind the story and base memory, that his life he was always a conversation with uncontrollable madness. His sky is always cloudy. His days without morning to wait. Spirit. Drugs. Weapons. Confinements. Prison. Make an effort to start a new life in the hands of their children and grandchildren that they help a person today, this need to get up he discovered after the last alcoholic transgression, when a major blackout ended up scaring her and make her understand that it had reached When looking for sunrises. That entice both the darkness, he could stay there forever. Blames his mother for much of what has happened. His brother, the incestuous offender almost ended his life ... but, like others, has forgiven. Today, just a prayer of faith controverting their sorrows. A vocation of light begins to illuminate the road. Aid timely arrival at the seat of the Holy Family Church, with the help of Ms Myriam Torres and the strength of many women like her, have been abused in her bustle of life. The need to pass to exit once and for all ... the world of shadows.
-has the serenity of someone who has seen it all. That clarity that lie beyond any border or boundary. The strength to come back from all hazards, to rebuild their lives in the midst of love-of the recently concluded his
- I worried a lot, me dice, el título que publicó El Informador en días pasados sobre el aumento del consumo de drogas en el adolescente, simultáneamente a la noticia que usted regresaba con su espacio EN VOZ BAJA. Pensé que esa era una oportunidad de dar a conocer lo que se realiza en un grupo de autoayuda al que pertenezco, a través de mi propio testimonio de vida, dándome cabida en sus entrevistas donde reflexiona sobre realidades, tragedias del ser humano, en la que a veces no nos detenemos cuánto deberíamos. Soy alcohólica, drogadicta, codependiente en recuperación. A la edad de 5 – 6 años sufrí de un incesto por parte de un hermano. Cuando traté de contárselo a mi madre, no me creyó. Es más, I said I was crazy. This was recorded in my mind. Not only the attack, if my mother did not believe me. They started changing my life. There was no family support to prevent worse things then happened.
has a hidden silence, a distant smile ... the crunch of ash, the wandering of lilies, the bustle barefoot screaming every time his irreverence grins to warm his past. There is a perennial fear of climbing the hours an incomplete truth permeating the bones ... the same fear as a child, nestled in the place of hope. Is the same time and same galling breeze. The same corner, the famous escape ... the alcohol as an excuse and convenience. There is also an emotion, a cold, old hurricane stirring day. Past a shelf, a pen and failures ... future depending always on the same sadness. He has known all perversions. From an incestuous relationship which was forced from very young, through drug trafficking and consumption, and belong to a criminal gang specializing in "arrebatones" ladies, coming out of the banks ... an alcoholic who suffers and, in undertaken a regeneration step, is to begin to overcome 50 years ... a new life cycle. Sexual dysfunction product of incestuous rape him simulate a pleasure never felt, when he wanted a pair. Arrested several times, today is the only survivor of that band to which he belonged and which was played life many times. It is left with no sense of emotion, the usual start, the energy wasted in vain ... running through his mind. This need to send to remember those wanting to leave without knowing if he returned, to overwhelm, to plant an adventure in every pore, to scrutinize in the summers, to quench thirst, to abolish the censorship ... to live as he lived ... limitless frames or law, no family, no references. However, when up to half a century, when the serenity of life begins to show on the face tolls caring for their grandchildren, they have to cherish the environment of the waiver. Leave behind the story and base memory, that his life he was always a conversation with uncontrollable madness. His sky is always cloudy. His days without morning to wait. Spirit. Drugs. Weapons. Confinements. Prison. Make an effort to start a new life in the hands of their children and grandchildren that they help a person today, this need to get up he discovered after the last alcoholic transgression, when a major blackout ended up scaring her and make her understand that it had reached When looking for sunrises. That entice both the darkness, he could stay there forever. Blames his mother for much of what has happened. His brother, the incestuous offender almost ended his life ... but, like others, has forgiven. Today, just a prayer of faith controverting their sorrows. A vocation of light begins to illuminate the road. Aid timely arrival at the seat of the Holy Family Church, with the help of Ms Myriam Torres and the strength of many women like her, have been abused in her bustle of life. The need to pass to exit once and for all ... the world of shadows.
-has the serenity of someone who has seen it all. That clarity that lie beyond any border or boundary. The strength to come back from all hazards, to rebuild their lives in the midst of love-of the recently concluded his
- I worried a lot, me dice, el título que publicó El Informador en días pasados sobre el aumento del consumo de drogas en el adolescente, simultáneamente a la noticia que usted regresaba con su espacio EN VOZ BAJA. Pensé que esa era una oportunidad de dar a conocer lo que se realiza en un grupo de autoayuda al que pertenezco, a través de mi propio testimonio de vida, dándome cabida en sus entrevistas donde reflexiona sobre realidades, tragedias del ser humano, en la que a veces no nos detenemos cuánto deberíamos. Soy alcohólica, drogadicta, codependiente en recuperación. A la edad de 5 – 6 años sufrí de un incesto por parte de un hermano. Cuando traté de contárselo a mi madre, no me creyó. Es más, I said I was crazy. This was recorded in my mind. Not only the attack, if my mother did not believe me. They started changing my life. There was no family support to prevent worse things then happened.
- as?
- incestuous abuse was repeated when I was a little older. What ticked me cruelly. I started to become rebellious. At age 12 I left home, when my stepfather also wanted to abuse me. At that time also I told my mom, and I do not believe it. Moreover, there was a time when both agreed and took me in one of these shelters Venezuelan Council the Child, which existed at that time. Leaving there, started my career criminal. I became a street dweller, denizen of the night, pursued by police in dangerous addict. Disappointed, hurt, because no one believed me. If no one did in my own home ... What could then expect of others? I started to walk in the world of drugs and alcohol. They were my companions in misfortune, who soothed my pain. It was a kind of anesthesia. Today, I reflect and think, how parents sometimes fail and push our children into this world, not paying attention, and to deny love and understanding. And that feeling alone, like me, we took refuge in fellow which are not always the best and most desirable. Who may engage in criminal acts like me.
- Are all yours ills begin with the incestuous attack?
- Yes. I learned that incest generated in the abused many problems. Both the physical part, as psychological, sexual, emotional. I've been damaged at all and forever. To the extent that there degenerated a criminal career with 23 entries to the police, prison and two suicide attempts. I married at age 16 with an older person, just to help you out of jail. I walked in the street. Mom had to threaten to give me permission to marry, which at that time was a prerequisite. When he bothered me, knowing he had a history, I denounced by the then Law of Vagrants and Crooks and took him away. Then I returned to the street. Where did key with others, socially hopeless alcoholics like me who showed me the chance to earn easy money. For adventure. To go all out at every opportunity. Subtracted out and unafraid to die if one is played. To be more clever than the police. Not afford to be caught. In transgressing the law as a matter of course
- How did the career criminal ... how was the first time?
- The first time I stole a purse to a woman. I was a little nervous. But when I did, I was sure. Only once berth was in the industrial zone, a specialist in "arrebatones." Also campaigning. Expected pay-day, women came out of banks and snatched their wallets. Especially the teachers who had 15 and 30 cash in their portfolios.
- When and why did you prey the first time?
- "fell" with 3 kilos of marijuana and 3,000 tablets of mandrax (N. R.: The Mandrax is a synthetic drug low price).
- Did you have?
- I got high. Trafficked and consumed. When I was very badly needed help and sought. But they all rejected me. They thought they had no cure. Even pastors of churches that claim to be representatives of God, and who boast of helping others, I wanted to help. I said it was a hopeless case. Never wanted to be a lifeline. Give me shelter. Hear me. Offer some words of encouragement, some advice. Maybe even a reprimand to shake me and make me think. But no, I do not even attending. Imagine how could I leave these sites. I felt rejected, really angry, unwilling to continue fighting without support. That led me to consume more and more. Road to destruction. Today I know that in these cases is precisely where the aid should enter the family. Should act with understanding, support, perseverance, love. I must say that I received the support of some people outside who helped me to the last. They tried to incorporate my family in my recovery, but they closed the doors. Even the argument. It seemed that I had died for them, or had more important things to spend your time. I was denied what is not denied anyone a hand. In cases like mine without the support of the family is very difficult to recover. Which I was fortunate he was never ready. I left one too many times. But still I continued my fight for my recovery. Fell and got up. Another relapse and I got up again. Amid the collapse, there was always a moment of clarity that I demanded rectification. He did not let me die. The output of abandonment. The fight of what little strength I had left to get over.
- Do you have children?
- I have three daughters, two of them professional. Are today the center of my life.
- Do you know your past life?
- Yes. I support my daughters and me to attend therapy. I have their support and that of their husbands. I care. Help me. I give that love which had lacked for so long. They are the best gift of God. I am currently in drug treatment. Help is essential, because one can not.
- Have you never seen your brother?
- Yes. Long ago, they forgave me inside. Who knows if he is worse than me. I'm about to converse with him. At some point I do.
- And your mother?
- I have very little to do with it. Although I also decided that at some point I will address. Any chance that I will talk to her. And coming up soon, because I learned that an Alzheimer's began.
- How was your relationship with a partner?
- It was good. Much less ideal than a woman hopes and dreams. After you suffer an attack like the one I lived, it is as if suffered mutilation. There are fears, distrust, disgust, rejection, timely unmanageable. However much one tries to forget, every time your partner comes to you, do not stop reliving the time of the violation. The stridency of abuse. The shock of the nightmare. Then one is with your partner just to please. Pretending pleasures. To meet the conjugal duties. To try and even, to see if one can overcome the wound. But one has been converted into a dysfunctional sexual, with no possibility of cure. And sooner rather than later, the man finds out ... and even there, comes around.
- How do you live?
- I do everything, including painting houses. But in one of these consequences of alcoholism I fell from a second floor, and I seriously injured my back. What prevents me from doing some tasks that had to make money legally. Today, I help my daughters. Although I had a hard time accepting that I keep my them.
- Your partners in crime?
- Almost all dead. Those who remain alive are very old, but not abandoned the bad habits. It is very difficult after a race to commit crimes, get out. Between pressure from the police and the old fellow who seek you proponiéndote, almost forcing you to stay with them ... it is hard to get rid of the illegal trade.
- How did the way of your feedback?
- One day I received a call for a workshop with Ms. Myriam Torres ... I did. There I think I found what was missing: to know myself, appreciate me, love me, raise self-esteem that I had it through the ground and especially lifting, value, love that girl that all of us. Mine was completely denied. I was hard to strengthen it by so many deficiencies that have happened, but now things are different, thank God.
- Tell me about the experience ..
- This is a self-help group which meets every Tuesday at Holy Family Church, located in carrera 27 entre calles 16 and 17 from 9:00 AM to 12:00 M with Ms. Myriam Torres, the sole purpose of sharing and break the silence about our personal problems, traumas of our childhood or adulthood. There are many women abused, raped physically, morally, sexually and emotionally, but this is not carried into the open for fear, fear, shame, or any threats of the perpetrator. So carry that pain in our lives that cripples us in many aspects of our existence. In this group we help each other, in search of a better quality of life. Ideal for many of those interviewed by you in a whisper. I came to this group, first because God allowed it, and then because I was willing to do what life was because I was coming to an end thanks to drugs and alcohol.
- How do you feel now?
- Very well ... too well. To the point that just weeks ago I turned 50 years and celebrated with great rejoicing. My daughters ask me why Despite so much euphoria when I was getting older ... I answered. I'm too happy. Do not know what it means for me this birthday as a novelty, today celebrated ... rather than to add a year, I'm celebrating the start living my new life.
begins to walk the rest of the road. A visit that part of the excitement that his 50 years, it is unknown. It is there in the anteroom of reason, where they begin new dreams and without fear of flooding the space for so long dwelt a nasty cold. Anger begins to strip paint. A search for a new library for understanding. Even their fear today is unlikely to be tolerated. Uninhabited this hellish heat that burned, and in the middle of that soft breeze and now feels happy face, calls for the joy, happiness tool, and from there to show others what did you learn and that she wants become teaching. Today it takes less to live, but the tulips have bloomed. Already have enough reasons to justify its existence. Now he has a lot to do. Far more than felt. More to enjoy. The amount of failures and successes, on the edge of their crops grown, testify to its truth ... that a half century of the game allows you to finally awaken from the long nightmare.
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