part 45

There are some pretty significant things that I have not been able to share here, for a variety of different reasons. It is weird to not be able to discuss these other events that have played such a huge role in my life, and in my recovery.

My intention is to “put it all out there.” I almost accidently reference the other things over and over when I write about my past. It feels like I’m keeping secrets. Maybe someday I will get to a place where I can include them here.

I will, however, say that those other significant things all carry on the sadistic and monstrous events I have already discussed here. Of course, these other things involve my dad, as well. Having lived such a life, and having died such a death, my dad has presented so many philosophical and psychological questions about the human mind, and about human beings in general.

For example, why do some people end up like my dad, while others do not? I think it is safe to presume that most people do not end up like my dad, but I truly believe there are a lot more people like him in the world than we as a society consciously acknowledge.

Of course, I also feel that, as a society, we are very quick to condemn others regardless of our knowledge of actual circumstances. It may not seem like such a big deal on an individual level, but I believe that lack of empathy is a continuously corroding element of the foundation of who we are as people.

Maybe ten years ago, a man I had known since childhood began discussing his views on drug dealers. He stated that all drug dealers should be killed. I asked him if he felt there were any mitigating factors to consider before condemning someone to death, and he made it clear that he believed the single act of selling drugs was justification for punishment by death.

His theory in support of his view was nothing that I, as a child of the 1980’s “Say No to Drugs” era, had not heard before. He believed that drugs killed people, and that no matter who you were or where you came from, if you sold drugs at any time in your life, you would be responsible for the death of someone who died from a drug overdose, or for the death of someone who might die of a drug overdose in the future.

His point was that once you deal drugs, you don’t know where they are going to go or whom they will harm, essentially like sending a loaded gun out to a crowded playground. Because drugs inevitably harm someone at some time, killing all drug dealers would be good way to keep that from happening, a good deterrent from other people becoming drug dealers, and would also be a just consequence for dealing drugs to begin with.

It is a logical argument. I don’t agree with it, but I can see how some could.

Anyway, I told this neighbor that I used to be involved with dealing drugs. If he really wanted to get technical, he could call me a drug dealer.

I don’t remember if he responded to that, but I do remember it was effectively the end of that conversation. (By the way, if you are craving to be in an awkward situation, just see me - I am the queen of creating awkward situations)

I didn’t try to argue with him – he was really getting on my nerves anyway. But my point (that I seriously doubt the neighbor guy got) was that drug dealers are not complete strangers, or even only people you may remotely know through a series of other people.

Drug dealers are human beings. They are sons and daughters and fathers and mothers and sisters and brothers. It is easy to condemn drug dealers to death as an entire group if you do not consider that human factor.

I did not tell this neighbor that the first time I snorted amphetamines was in his house after his son showed me how to crush up my Ritalin with the bottom of a spoon, and then to suck it up my nose through a rolled up dollar bill and off of his kitchen counter.

I am not advocating a specific leniency in the prosecution of drug dealers, nor am I implying that every son or daughter may become, is now, or has been a drug dealer. I’m just saying that it doesn’t make any sense to dehumanize criminal behavior when it is always a human being committing the crime.

I refer to my dad as a monster. I feel that he is somehow not human because of the things he has done. It makes me feel better that I can separate my dad from all other human beings like that. It makes it easier for me to not look at what I myself am capable of, or what anyone close to me is capable of, or what anyone at all is capable of.

Nothing my dad ever did can change the fact that he is a human being – a horrendous and dead human being, but a human being nonetheless. Sixty years ago, my dad was an adorable baby boy with a curl in his hair and a sunny smile. He was a little kid as desperate for his parents’ love as I was for his. He was innocent.

How did he become a monster? I have my theories, of course, but at the end of the day, there is no completely definitive way to answer the question of how my dad went from a beautiful little cherub to a terrifying mad man.

There is no completely definitive way to answer the question of how I did NOT become a terrifying mad man.

I don’t believe that what my dad did was in any way excusable, because it was not. However, a big part of the person he ended up being was because of how horrible other human beings had been to him during his childhood. He was condemned before he could ever even have a chance to naturally grow up to be a good person.

I don’t know why I am writing this. I just really believe that we should never forget that human beings are human beings, no matter what we want to see them as. Following, we are all human beings who are capable of becoming monsters. This is not okay with me, but it is real.

My dad always had standards for me to meet before he would allow me to believe he cared about me. That was really fucked up. It’s also fucked up that people do that to each other every single day.

All I know for sure is that I can do my best to just love my kids and my husband and my family and my friends for who they are, and to be as tolerant and kind as I can to everyone else. I don’t think this will guarantee that I will never become a monster, but I do think it will help to not speed up the process of anyone else becoming a monster.

That’s about as close as I can come to a conclusion on this post, so I’m just going to stop writing now, and go take a nap.