A Recap for new readers: My ordinary origin story

There's never been a better time in history to be a nobody, and still I'm tired of it. Given the (minor) surge in my social exposure, I think new readers need to know who I am.

I'll hit on the marks minus the details: I was born and I live in St. Louis. I'm 62 in August. This surprises me.

I had an unhappy childhood. My parents also did. My parents childhood was one of poverty. They saved me from that problem. Instead, my troubles came from emotional poverty. They raised me and the five other siblings who following me. This they did despite a having a terrible marriage, one of alcohol abuse, mental illness, and tragedy. They deserve acclaim for that achievement.

The main family tragedy was the child born immediately after me. He had a severe birth defect. This congenital disorder saddled him life-long with a mental age of a two-year old. My parents chose to raise him with the rest of his siblings.

Mother's mental illness was the second tragedy. She would spend whole months in psych wards. In the interim she was either going psychotic or in full-blown psychosis.

Due to this, I lost my mother's emotional support early on. She was distracted at best. At worst she was mean-tempered and abusive. My father was out of the home most the time. He worked late. They would fight, usually in the late night. He was drunk and manipulative; she was buzzing on caffeine, nicotine, and clinical mania. This deprived all of his children of sleep.

My father did his work very well. In fact, he became wealthy. He never succeeded as spectacularly with his family life. When he was home, he was an asshole half the time. He reserved the right to become one at any time. Yet, because of his hard work and diligence, we were never in poverty. This is how and why we stayed out of foster care. Kudos to him for that.

This upbringing has negatively affected my siblings and I into adulthood. For myself, I was a depressed, angry, lonely child. I passed most of my childhood watching television. distracted myself with comedy. I tried sometimes tried to socialize despite my depression. None of it ever worked. Depressed and angry is never a good posture for childhood socialization.

Catholic school never did anything for me. A poor student and sickly, I missed dozens of school days every year. To this day, and likely until the day I die, I've been trying to catch up on the learning I lost during those empty years.

As an adult, I struggled to keep a job. I ended up living in my parent's, sad, chaotic home for long periods. I never married, never had children, and all my relationships were disastrous and traumatic. I had my own hospitalizations due to mental issues. Of course, therapy has been a big part of my life for over forty years. Yet, I never complicated my illness with substance abuse. My resolve appears to have carried over to my siblings. (Kudos to me.)

Then, in 2011, I was diagnosed as having Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. It wasn't a borderline issue. I now take the maximum doses of two anti-ADHD medications. My life began to change much for the better. My parents, too distracted by a child who was by far worse off, never detected it. To them, and to the Catholic schools they insisted I attend, I was a behavior problem. 

I might have had a hard childhood, but I realized recently my own bottled-up anger greatly magnified my problems. It also made me a worse person to others. Yes, I had a serious neurological issue, but even that would've been clearer to see if not for the displaced rage. I'm sorry for everything I did wrong, and people that I hurt. (I might be brave enough to elaborate on these later).

For decades I knew I wanted to be a writer. I'm not published yet, but I write fantasy, horror, and science ficton. I call that FIBS, Fantasy Informed By Science, which would make me a FIBber. 

Prior to now, I was always too distracted and short on time to write. Controlling the ADHD has given me time now. I want to spend my remaining life, without resentment or anger, doing the best writing I can, and helping who I can.

PS. This blog is called Life After Shocks because I hit bottom in 2009 when I received electro-convulsive therapy. Afterward, I decided my biggest misstep in life was never writing. Now it's my vocation.

I'm a left-of-Bernie-Sanders liberal. I think Trump was (is) the worst crisis this nation has suffered in my lifetime. I support and I'm optimistic about the Biden administration.

 

I also keep a political blog called AnArch Liberal.