I often ask myself how my life would be different had I never found the casino, horse track, baseball card packs, lottery tickets etc... Yes cyber world I have managed to consistantly screw up my life with addictions. My earliest memories are of food addiction and eating so much I could not move as a young boy. I was always sick, tired, and full of food. My mother was obese and we would eat out more than in. If we did eat at home it was followed by coca cola and lots of ding dongs, ice cream, and more. I lived in fear of my mother and would eat and eat as it was our bonding.
The year was 1989 and I was a 10 year old boy. I had found out about baseball cards from friends of mine and there was a player named Ken Griffey Jr that was making a big splash. With my name being so similiar I wanted to collect all his cards, further I wanted to collect EVERY card! Christmas came around and I received about 200 dollars from family (I was rich). I asked Liz to take me to to Treasure Coast Cards and games, a local baseball card shop that ironically still exists. My mother dropped me off and said dont spend to much. I walk into the shop and it smells great, like excess and exhuberance all at once.
I had the 200 bucks in my pocket and was excited to buy up some Ken Griffey's! The 1989 Upperdeck product had just been released and was being sold for $3 dollars per pack. The owner showed me several Ken Griffey Rookies and there was a nice one for $50 dollars. I considered just buying the $50 dollar one and saving 150 bucks for future buys or a bike. The owner put a box of the 1989 wax on the table and said I could also buy a pack and hit a Ken Griffey rookie for only 3 bucks! This sounded so logical to me and I dug one out opening it with my teeth.
I managed to get no cards of value so I must open another as im already in for $3 bucks and got nothing worth keeping. Fast forward 30 minutes and I am sweating, angry, and down 200 dollars. I managed to buy 200 worth of packs and didnt get a Ken Griffey card! I as so upset I felt like crying. I was truly miserable. I go out to the car and Liz was pist that it took so long for me to come out (of course shed never come in that would have involved getting her ass out of the car seat). She berates me for about 30 minutes as we drive home calling me a loser, a degenerate, and fat of course. I can remember it like it was yesterday. She made me feel as small as possible because I spent "her money" on worthless baseball cards. But it wasnt her money, it was MY christmas money was it not? She stayed angry for a while and forced me to basically kiss her butt for a week while I slaved over chores, cleaning, laundry, dishes etc only to get yelled out for it. As if I didnt already feel bad enough about what went down.
At the time I didn't realize what I had started by spending that money. I had opened pandora's box of fear, anxiety, destruction, and chaos for my life. Had I known then what I know now I would have never walked in the door. Alas, we all make choices in our life and often times do not realize the ramifications of them until it is too late. For me a simple $3 dollar pack of baseball cards set off a series of events that would at any given time leave me lost, broken, homeless, suicidal, and desperate.
I have read much about addiction and it is said that an alchoholic can always remember their first drink, seems real enough as I remember my first gamble. My grandfather gambled away his business and a large portion of wealth by trading futures which is basically one of the most risky endevours one can get into involving the stock market. I don't believe gambling or addiction is genetic based but I do feel as though it has always lived inside of me and just took the right experience for it to come out.
The continuation of my fall into gambling hell will continue in the near future for your reading pleasure...I have some interesting experiences, many scary ones, and I have learned a lot through my experience so I hope to share it all with you.
Until next time,
Cant
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
My journey into reality
A new day a new blog, and yet there is so much to discuss and reveal. I should start with the basics as every great story starts with an introduction. I have tasted failure on many levels from business, poker, school, women and more...yet I have learned some life lessons over the course of 31 years. Reality is based solely on the premise of truly caring what others think about your life. For many years I was tortured with fear and anxiety over how others viewed me or if I was good enough.
The fear of acceptance by people I don't know has paralyzed my life in so many ways it makes me sick to my stomach to consider it. It all started back in elementary school when I would attention seek by faking injuries to end up in the nurses office or get sent home. My mother...where do we begin. First off I call her Liz, yes it is odd but my mother though she "raised" me until I was 14 years old was never much of a mother to me. I have wracked my brain for just 1 good memory or fun time I had when I was with her and I can honestly say I have not 1 good memory of any time spent with her. I have spent my life putting labels on people though fearing being labeled myself. For me life is basically black and white, good or bad, and people are typically able to be put in two catagories: Takers and Givers. Takers will seek out your company, friendship, and time only for self servicing. Their sly smiles cover up their negative intentions be it to extract from you time, money, empathy, or something more sinister. Givers on the other hand will allow you to be a part of their life, share with you their successes, while always championing yours as well. My mother is a taker, in every sense of the word she has not at any point in her life done anything altruistic.
I have debated the pretense of nothing being altruistic in this life though frankly a warm fuzzy feeling for doing good things for others should not discount it as being selfish. My mother was the type of woman who would extend her arms to give you a hug and just before you reached her she would punch you in the face. This is not a metaphore speaking to thinking, this is how she truly treated her children. My favorite recent memory of my mother involves her raising a Yorki for over 10years only to open the door and kick him out when husband number 4 came into her life and wanted to get rid of the dog. It is ironic how that story symbolizes the very way she has raised her children.
My intentions of this blog are vast and include many areas of my life experience. I do feel as though we have to touch on the past to move forward and grow together in the future. I will continue to shovel off the dirt from my past and reveal the underlying reasons for who I am.
Until the next time,
Cant.
The fear of acceptance by people I don't know has paralyzed my life in so many ways it makes me sick to my stomach to consider it. It all started back in elementary school when I would attention seek by faking injuries to end up in the nurses office or get sent home. My mother...where do we begin. First off I call her Liz, yes it is odd but my mother though she "raised" me until I was 14 years old was never much of a mother to me. I have wracked my brain for just 1 good memory or fun time I had when I was with her and I can honestly say I have not 1 good memory of any time spent with her. I have spent my life putting labels on people though fearing being labeled myself. For me life is basically black and white, good or bad, and people are typically able to be put in two catagories: Takers and Givers. Takers will seek out your company, friendship, and time only for self servicing. Their sly smiles cover up their negative intentions be it to extract from you time, money, empathy, or something more sinister. Givers on the other hand will allow you to be a part of their life, share with you their successes, while always championing yours as well. My mother is a taker, in every sense of the word she has not at any point in her life done anything altruistic.
I have debated the pretense of nothing being altruistic in this life though frankly a warm fuzzy feeling for doing good things for others should not discount it as being selfish. My mother was the type of woman who would extend her arms to give you a hug and just before you reached her she would punch you in the face. This is not a metaphore speaking to thinking, this is how she truly treated her children. My favorite recent memory of my mother involves her raising a Yorki for over 10years only to open the door and kick him out when husband number 4 came into her life and wanted to get rid of the dog. It is ironic how that story symbolizes the very way she has raised her children.
My intentions of this blog are vast and include many areas of my life experience. I do feel as though we have to touch on the past to move forward and grow together in the future. I will continue to shovel off the dirt from my past and reveal the underlying reasons for who I am.
Until the next time,
Cant.
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