What I learned from Anne Frank

I am a late bloomer in all things that I do. To my credit however I usually end up enjoying or being better at the things I take longer to do. So I am not surprised that I still sit here on my parents couch. Despite a misguided and failed attempt to leave I am still here. Sometimes its hard to look at the past clearly. Its hard to look at things you see and experience everyday objectively.

I was just in a discussion about how family upbringings can effect your growth an adulthood. I have been reading books in an attempt to understand some of the ‘problems’ I see in myself. As much as I would love to blame myself for the situation this house is in I cannot. It is my attempt to control what happens. I can no more blame myself for the dysfunction of this family than I can for the snow that stops me from leaving for Baltimore.

After reading Anne Frank I have more confidence in myself. It is possible to be misunderstood. It is possible to be intelligent and un recognized. It is possible to be taken advantage of by your own family. And while it is a stretch to call myself in the same sentence as Ms. Frank, I do recognize our similarities.

Unfortunately I am a scapegoat for a larger problem in this family. Mainly between two people. My parents. I didn’t at first recognize this pattern but later in life it became clear. I am used to vent frustration or as a weapon against each other. I am used to tattle on the other to mediate arguments and to remember previous conversations between the two. On the flip they will come together for the business of rebuking me. Once that is done everything is back to normal. AKA they are not speaking.

My greatest dream is not to become a famous author, but to live on my own. To be away from this house and the people in it. I feel I cannot grow to my potential under these circumstances. My self respect and self worth will only reach a certain amount so long as I live in a place where my mother behaves no longer as my mother but my land lord refusing to cook enough for me when she cooks for the family. Demanding more than half (literarily) of my paycheck. I am a tenant not her son. “You are a tenant what part of that don’t you understand?” So long as that is my life will never have the confidence I need to write seriously, to take myself seriously.

So long as I live with my father who gives and takes on a whim an uses the bible as a weapon against me mentioning it only when he feels he can use God against me, I wont grow anymore. Its funny his favorite story to recite or make me recite is the parable of the prodigal son. The amount of times I have read the story, had the story read to me, hade to read the story out loud is sickening. To another it would turn them away from the bible. They use that passage without fully understanding it. Its funny because my father says I’m like the son, but he is nothing like the father. Nor does he try to be. What’s sad is that while ignoring Ephesians 6:4 he continues to use that story to rebuke me. Only my sins are found in the bible, not his own.

I remember the day my father had to sit in front of me and my brother an apologize for his adultery. He couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t speak or look at him. All I could do was stare away with tears welling up in my eyes. I could care less about the adultery, I had known about that for some time. For the sake of my well being I keep silent about alot of injustices. It was his hypocrisy that hurt me. This is the same man that always blasted and beat me for my wrongs, for any sins against God and he is cheating on his wife. The same man that rebuked me calling me a loser, worthless, and throwing away my life for smoking pot is the same man that introduced me to pot. The first person that told me to inhale at age 13.

The bible tells me to respect my mother and father. Though I don’t wish to and don’t even know how to I feel my best way of respect is to stay silent.

Raising word against my mother will get the response “You can go to a homeless shelter.” When they though I had lost my navy contract due to overweight or had failed a US she told me she would write me out of her will and pending further investigation I would be in a shelter. I have no mother.

So when the bible says those that respect your mother and father an you will live a long life, I suspect I wont live very long. I suspect I’ll die like Stephen, killed for his message

Before I read Anne Frank I did not believe some one so brilliant could be so mistreated and misunderstood by their family. I think myself brilliant. Though I have never been told such by my family, I suspect myself to be above average. Now I see that a shining star can go unseen.

I have the chance to join the army or the navy. I am told by the army I can be in Afghanistan by the end of this year. I want to go. I want to go and get out of here. I would rather take the risk of getting shot in the face than to be on the streets of DC on the whim of my mother.

I think I am a perfect candidate for a war. As I write this I have no wife or family that I leave behind. I have no connections to the United States. Staying oversees for months years on end would be better than the alternative, staying here.

As I sat in jail I did not miss the house. As I slept cold nights in my car I did not miss this house. When I leave for service I know I cant come back. They may end up getting a divorce anyway, once they loose me to fill the void an come to realize that I was not the cause of all the unhappiness.

I feel like I am unwanted. While I know I have not been perfect. (Jail, school, etc) I do not deserve this. I don’t ask for pity. A little understanding will do. Actually I would feel shy if people actually read this. I feel safe in the comfort of peoples dis-taste for reading and their obsession with their own lives. It does my heart good to write this and release it to the atmosphere. Its good to get it all out there. More for me than anyone else.

I know people suffer worse than I. I don’t pretend this is a reason to cry or excuse to act a fool. It is my burden and mine alone. I take this load and as my load I reserve the right, no the responsibility to talk about it. So if anyone else may have a load like mine they can draw strength from the fact that I came before them and triumphed, so can they. So I can be Anne Frank to them like Anne Frank was to me.