If you have never read a story written by me, or read another of mine for the rest of your life, I implore you to read this one. Sometimes in life, we can be made to feel really bad about ourselves, and our whole psyche is brought down to the lowest possible places. I am here to share a story with you, a true story, that I hope, will help all of us, to break the chains of shame and guilt, and be lifted back to the highest level that life has to offer. We are all products of life's journey, continually being  sculpted and molded, every second, of every day. Each and every interaction we have encountered from birth to this very moment, has formed us into the people we are right now.  Since we cannot in reality, go all the way back to our births and start over, we can however, start today to open a new avenue of growth and change, by sharing the truth about ourselves and how we came to be. 
    Hi, my name is Mike. I am just like you. I am one of billions of people living on this planet, looking  for love, good health, peace and prosperity.  Who am I? I am a sixty year old husband, father of six, union floor layer, with enough dysfunction for everyone. My passions include; harmonica, guitar, music, fishing, canoeing and rafting, camping,growing, canning, drinking, and as of the last two years writing short stories. My kids and Grand kids go with out saying. My financial life has always been one of playing the catch up game. Well now that you know a little about who I am now, let's dig in a bit to see how I got to this point in life.
  My earliest memory is that of being abused. When we think of abuse, don't get caught up in what kind, abuse is abuse. No matter if it's physical, sexual, or mental,  they all play the same major role in forming our minds and emotions. Some people drink too much, while others eat to oblivion, and still others turn to drugs. Many pushed by the shame and guilt become workaholics. Some strive to be the best in the world for others to see, as to hide the real you. And still others never get past it at all, and turn inward and invisible. Even bullies, portray an image of outer strength, while dying inside.  I was mentally and sexually abused. 
  I was a very soft and meek child who never liked confrontation of any kind. I still don't. I became a very outgoing person. No one knew what I really thought of myself. I was nothing. Well maybe a piece of shit. That was the lowest thing I could think of myself. Growing up, I had questions of sexuality. There was some experimentation in my teen years. Guilt and shame were the strongest forces forming my being. Society had it's so called normal standards. Yea right, "normal".     I always felt out of place. I know now that it was because I felt so insecure inside.  My parents, were good moral people and raised us okay. But looking deeper, there was a lot of mental abuse there too. I began drinking and smoking pot when I was around ten.  It made me feel better than I really felt, but just until I was sober again. Just like stuffing food in your mouth, the high's wore off fast, but my inner feeling were always still there.  When I was in my early twenties, My father died. My mom found God. Soon she had me hooked too. I became a young holy roller. Soon after, I found AA. It took some time, but eventually I began to share my feelings in the meetings. I got sober, and even quit smoking. I was getting high on the meetings. They called it a pink cloud. It like all the other highs wore off and back to feeling down I went. Bouts of depression have plagued me my entire adult life. I could go months sometimes feeling up, but then like a ton of bricks, boom, down I went. 
   I met my loving wife when I was around twenty five. We got married two years later. We had six children together. During the time they were growing up, all my attention was on work and taking care of them. The depression was kept pretty low during that time. When it did raise it's  ugly head, I smiled my way through the best I could. I know, it affected all those around me and left impressions on their growing psyche as well. It seems dysfunction, no matter how small has outward ripples, which if not addressed, can turn into waves in another being. The Dr. said I had a chemical imbalance. Yea right, nothing they gave me worked to create a proper balance.  Appointments and pills was their bullshit answer. I don't mean to bash, as they do help some, just not me or anyone I know. 
  It took a while, but I finally realized a few things which actually did help me. In AA when we shared our stories with others, I felt better. The more honestly I shared, the lighter my soul had become. I didn't need  drink or pills, I needed to share the stuff that was like a giant rock on my shoulders making me ill.  Maybe that is where the idea of confession came from. When I was young and told my sin to a priest, it may have helped but not enough. When I share openly with others, I get the best results.  When I  share with people, they have two options. Either laugh at me and belittle me, or find compassion and empathy. I found more times than not, people shared their story right back with me. It was the most freeing experience of my life.  I remember once at a speaking commitment in AA, sharing from the podium about being molested as a boy, when the meeting was over, there was this large circle around me. Half the room, wanting to share back.  I shared all my deathbed secrets. I am free.
    I am no longer afraid of anything in my life. Although I do still have bits of depression now and then, it is minimal to say the least. I have never felt better emotionally in my life. In the past two years out of no where, I have begun to write little stories. I laugh and cry with emotion as I write them. Lot's of people reply that they too, laugh and cry when reading them.  
 To end this simple let me say, share your stories with your loved ones and others. We all need to share in order to heal. I'd rather share my painful dirt  with a million people, then keep it inside, and feel that crushing in my soul. Peace to you all, and may you find the strength to stand tall and free. Well enough of my rattling , Your friend, Mike