Doors, Carmine I hate the spot light too so I know how you feel. Thank you for sharing. Thank you for being who you are and for being in our lives. Thank you for surviving. Thank you for being who you are. Yes Deb…AJ AKA Carmine Warrior.
Okay…the mind compartmentalizes many things, good and bad, they are behind doors never forgotten but closed off. Someone says something that triggers a negative compartment, some compartments are not as severe as others so the reaction is that a door swings open and activates disconnect but it is brief, controllable. The big ones not so much. Example, I had step father who beat one of my sisters almost to death in front of us, when she stopped moving and he kept hitting her it was beyond devastating. He wouldn’t let is touch her he picked her up, took her up the stairs and dared us to come up. So, we sat in the basement, trying to come to terms with what we had just saw, hearing him threaten to do the same thing to us, and knowing mom would probably not do anything about it. We did not know our sister was survived until the next day. She was covered in bruises her eyes were black her lips swollen. It was a moment that is vivid in my memory and is behind a door marked severe. It is not good to open the severe door. Shut down and reboot for me goes like this, the severe compartment slowly opens, I feel nothing and I don’t give a damn about anything. I am not concerned about death I am death. He opened the compartment one night turning off a program we waited all week to see, doing all our chores and being very good. It was the Jackson Five special and mom said we could watch it on the big color television upstairs. Just as we sat down to watch it he turns to some sports game a basketball game and he thought this was funny. I walked down stairs, all I saw was red, every thing was surrounded by a red haze. I put my back against the wall behind his bar full of all his liquor and fine glasses, I braced my back against the wall, put both feet against the bar and roared loudly The entire bar crashed to the ground and he hurried down the stairs. I glared at him holding a broken bottle in my hand. He started shouting at me and I just growled and glared at him my eyes fixating on his jugular in his neck that was throbbing, He dived toward me and I leaped out of his grasped and threw the bottle at him I ran for the stairs, he caught me before I got to the top, telling me he was going to kill me. I kicked him off me causing him to go crashing into the wall at the end of the staircase, I couldn't let him catch me. I didn’t intend to do that one of us would die. I ran for the front door I couldn’t get out because of the dead bolt so I ran to the bathroom and locked the door. He banged on it screaming at my sisters to shut up because they were crying. I refuse to open the door and something said the window. I went out the bathroom window and ran to a friends house Melanie, Melanie Redditt. I did not know I had a black eye until I calmed down. I did not know my lips were bust and swollen, I didn’t remember him hitting me but he had hit me in my face probably more than once. I didn’t feel it. Melanie's mother called my mother at her job, said she was calling the police, she was pissed and at some point my mother showed up. At first I refused to leave with her and I told my friends mom to call the police so I could go to jail. She talked me into leaving with my mother promising she was going to check on me all the time. she also had some choice words for my mother. Another memory I have that is as clear as it was when it happened. He is dead now, relief vindication. He was one of three. Two are dead and one still remains. Bad for doors to open, especially severe ones because I completely disconnect when they do.
