Childhood trauma

May 6th, 2017

This is something I think about often, but can’t seem to remember much of my life prior to kindergarten. The first day kindergarten is vivid. I was holding my mom’s hand walking into the kindergarten. I was terrified! During play time I quickly ran behind the bushes to hide. Day after day I hid behind those bushes watching all the kids have so much fun. It was the swing that particularly caught my attention. It seemed like soooo much fun. One day when nobody was there I quickly ran out from behind  the bushes and went on the swing. I was hooked and went there every day during play time.

Then came first grade, when school life became a nightmare. This older big kid didn’t like me. Maybe I was too shy for his liking. He made me frightened that I wouldn’t even ask the teacher permission to go to the bathroom. For three years my life was like worse than the worse horror movie for me. Trying to hold from peeing my pants was so painful. Many times I soaked my pants in school, but I was not going to go outside by myself. Every day, every second during playtime I stood next to the lady who watched over the children, almost holding on to her all the time. Those years were so terrifying to me.

As if school was bad enough, there was a kid on our block, much older and bigger than me. He terrorized me something awful, physically and emotionally. The things he said to me were so frightening that I remember what seemed like years where I would not sleep at all except for what seemed like maybe a few hours at most. I would just sit up in my bed staring staring staring at the door waiting for the monster to capture me. The monster that the bad kid said was going to get me.

The bullying continued on to every year in school. It was I think 5th grade, mr escalante, a very tall and big man. A man who destroyed what left there was of me. Every single day, through out the day, he would teas me in school in front of everyone. Saying things like, “Hey Paul. What time is it, Paul. What’s today.” And every time the entire class would stare at me laughing. He would pick me up and throw me on his shoulders carrying me around. One time he told the class to follow him. He carried me outside through the buildings and across the street. He was a big intimidating man. Time after time he took me outside alone where he would get very angry at me. He hated me because I was a daydream. Well I daydreamed to escape horrible people like you!!!! So while outside he would slam me against the brick wall. Sometimes grabbing me by the throat and lifting me off the ground. Numerous times he would press so hard on my chest that I would almost black out. One time I saw the world closing in as the blackness almost became a small dot, almost blacking out. And his face, the expression on his face was frightening. Such rage in his face.

Life became worse year after year. People picked up on my fear and bullied me even more. On our block at home were about a dozen kids. They too would be tease me. Not every day, but some days it got so bad. It’s like they got therapeutic help bullying me. They even broke my bedroom window one day.

High school was no better, and in fact was worse. I joined the tennis team. They used to tease and  laugh at me all the time about anything, my bad haircuts that my mom gave me, my cloths. They used to make fun of the black and blue under my eyes because I didn’t get much sleep. I remember one time the entire tennis team was making fun of me so much on the bus that it seemed like everyone was yelling at me. And the coach, he just sat there quiet, staring at me like as if to say this will help strengthen you.

I quiet the tennis team and spent the next 3 years trying to stay away from people, which has been my path ever since. Even to this day, age 52, when ever someone touches me it’s as if they stabbed me. Even sitting next to someone in the front seat of a car is a very uneasy feeling.

Nowadays I often ponder if something bad happened to me as a baby. My older brother, about 8 years older, was a nightmare. Everyone in the family said he was very ornery as a child. He tortured me endlessly. Hanging me upside down, etc. etc. My sister often talks about the day she brought home a boyfriend, where my brother got a baseball bat and smashed it on him. So I just have to wonder if my brother tortured me something horribly as a baby, because even my first day of kindergarten I was absolutely terrified of people.