It's really hard to deal with my past, right now

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I find that my childhood story is somewhat similar to that of my role model, Mick Avory. He struggled with reading and writing through school. So did I. He was quiet spoken and he got a lot of s**t for that. The same thing happened to me. He was clumped in the ear and he was told not to be a crybaby. Every time I cried, which was often, I was dragged to my bedroom and given a swift hard spanking on my butt.

My special needs teacher would drag me into the washroom and manhandle me to the smallest toilet in the girl's washroom, just because I had a messy accident, only one time, in Grade 2. I wouldn't be suprised if Mick was beaten 12 times for having such an episode in his day. I had to beg the teacher to let me go, because I really did not have to go to the washroom, at all, and I'd end up having a huge meltdown, asking the teacher why she hated me so much. She told me that I was tied up in knots and that I needed to pull myself together and come back into the classroom a happy soul. Thank goodness they didn't still have the strap in Canada, in those days. I would have been severly beaten by that teacher, the day of that episode.

To top it off, my dad decided to take my sister and I into work with him, after a fun summer, watching the 1984 Olympic Summer Games on television. The first thing that my dad did was drag me into the equipment room, as he told my sister to wait quietly outside. He was swingning on the chin up bars, showing off how strong and swift he was, and than he dragged a box of medicine balls right next to his right side. Than he said not to worry and that he won't hurt me. Than he started to throw these medicine balls right into the most sensitive part of my pot belly. He was laughing at me, asking me, "Are you going to cry? Are you going to cry? These are medicine balls. Maybe I can take one home, and I can throw it at your stomach, and you will be slim like the rest of the family." Again...poor chubby Mick had a gym teacher who was just like my dad, swinging off the bars and throwing the medicine balls at his pot belly, and that stupid comment about how they would help shape him up, to be as small as the rest of the boys in the class.

Mick was a horrible boy scout and he snuck downstairs from the rest of the group and played on the drums and play pool. At least my mum had the graceful tact not to put me into Brownies, knowing that I would have been off in another part of the gym, trying to shoot baskets.

Mick's bad karma had to do with people trying to pick on him and tun him inside out, making him cry, which usually seemed to work, when he went through customs. It also had to do with cars with radios that didn't work.

I've never had a driver's licence, because I felt that it was more important that I build up a solid resrevoir of savings in case of emergencies. I still thought it would have been neat to have a Honda, like my common law uncle Forest. My karma happened just recently, before my mum drove me home on Tuesday. After I've knocked down more than enough things, I've turned on the bathroom light on, sparks fell from the ceiling, almost to the ground, and the lightbulb blew. I knew that it was time to get back to the big city.

There's one thing to top it off. My little sister was an abusive little bugger towards me. At the ages 5 and 6, my sister who was three years longer would beat me with a wooden hanger rod from the dresser in my bedroom, at least once a week. I got her back by telling her to close her eyes, and I pushed her into the closet part of the dresser, and shut the door on her. My mum was looking all over for Erica and asked where she was. I cried as I opened the dresser closet , and I showed her the stick that my sister had been beating me with. My mum beat my sister with the rod the same way I was beaten with it, and she said, see...that hurts, doesn't it? Don't you ever do that to Shelby again. She put the rod up in her bedroom closet as I watched her. It was just like Christmas morning!

That's my story.

That's why my posts have been a little raunchy lately, but I can change my tune and share the Cockney Spirit, now that I've gotten this off my chest.

I've been playing myself this video to get my through, from time to time:

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GZQUKN5G9xk[/youtube]

Hello CockneyRebel,

Do you still see your family?

And thanks for the song!

I've forgiven them two summers ago, when I've started going to church for the first time in my life. I've asked Jesus into my heart, and everything else fell back into it's rightful place. The mental health system where I lived kept turning me away. I've also forgiven Tequila for what he's done to me. Sorry for mentioning the name of another WP member. This is from the heart, not the lip. That's when I was able to come back home to 1965. I don't care if a lot of friends and family will be going to 5-D Earth in 2012. That will give me a chance to hop on an airplane for free, fly to London and run through the decks of the rusted old Routemasters like a banshee. I was always a Cockney Rebel and I always will be, and I know that I will get to Heaven in my own good time. Not when some hippie with a Jesus cross tells me that I am.

I'm going to spend the night at my mum's place on Monday and see if we can't joke about the jokes about how to be a Canadian, that I was in tears over, a little over a week ago. I just had to forgive and forget, and once I forgave Paul, I was able to Get Back! The Beatles did a really good job on both versions of that song.

I've sorted these things out, and I'm not bothered by my past, anymore. The thing that bothers me is that things like this are happening to kids all over the world, right now as I type this. For the morning will bring joy, to every girl and boy...that's an old wife's tale. It should be more like for the morning will bring joy to the NT girls and boys.

At least I'm at my parents' country home, right now. Most abused adults hold grudges against their parents and they never even phone them past the age of seventeen. I'm spending the night, though I've been up coughing and blowing my nose.

I never heard that song before, thanks for sharing.

You're welcome. I thought that it would be easie just to post a link to this thread in the thread than it would be to live through all this by typing it out all over again.

I'm curious. What are all your sources for all of this personal information regarding Mick Avory?