After living in Kaslo, BC, Danny the Liar and I were summarily punted from the family household whence Grade 12 was completed and forced to “make it out on our own.” With no help from those who were charged with our care – my sister came to our aid in Calgary and I was always grateful for her. Whenever the one who gave birth to me got tired of me or couldn’t find it within herself to assist me in life in the ways that she should have, she always pawned me off to my sister or brothers. I’m sure my sis didn’t mind helping and I’m sure Sue knew that mother-dearest simply couldn’t be bothered to help in any way that mattered, but, I always got the feeling of used baggage, regardless. Kind of like going to a party that you weren’t invited to? I never thanked Sue for helping me in life, when my parents did not, but, I was always so confused about anyone’s intentions toward me. Intent, is something I still struggle with, even at this age.
Great book… and exactly how I felt as a child.
Because you see, my life is only the culmination of one person’s hatred for another. That’s it. My entire reason for existence. My mother wanted to spite my father for saying “no more children”. They were both from previous marriages, and already had grown children of their own, and those two misfits came together as their fates became entangled from their grown children’s friendship for the other set of children. Romantic. But. Mother dearest fucked it all up. The one trait she has in abundance. Take something awesome and pour 50 tonnes of raw sewage all over it.
So, mother dearest poked a hole in her diaphragm and presto-chango, along came Carl, much to my father’s sincerest surprise too. That kind of betrayal is something that mother actually encourages others to do too – to this day. Christianity had little effect on her. And, just to make the point clear enough for a thick headed old boy that Dad was, she repeated the dastardly deed once more, and along came Danny the Liar, the Deviant, the Antagonist, the Drug User. Like the devil himself, he has many names.
For the next 20 years I (and we, if we’re going to keep telling the truth here) became the focus of my father’s anger on a daily, weekly, monthly and yearly basis. All I had to do, was say, “hey Dad” in the softest, most quiet voice and that’s all it took for my father to BLOW THE FUCK UP. “WHAT” “WHAT DO YOU WANT NOW” “I’M READING” “GET OFF THAT DAMN MACHINE”. Now, that last one had a little more effect than one would like. I should have pursued the life of a computer programmer but, I chose instead the life of a Journalist. Not a decision that I regret at all, but, I did not take into account the tremendous amount of anxiety that childhood in my life had revealed. For one to be a Journalist, one can’t be riddle with anxiety so sky high that even stepping onto a Calgary Transit bus gives rise to palpitations and blackout panic attacks. What did I say? My brain chemistry is, unique.
Relax Carl… yeah right.
In order for a Journalist to be a Journalist, you need to be ready for fucking anything. Anything. Any kind of person, situation, interrogation of cheating policeman or politician, anything. Someone with a high amount of anxiety can’t be throwing himself in situations like that. Ugh…
And so, even when you know you’re allergic to something and you tell your mother, what should she do? Laugh? Mock you? Deny you the trip to the doctor? Tell your brothers and sisters so they laugh too? If something you’re eating hurts you and you say something shouldn’t someone listen? Not in my case. Eating eggs caused my throat to close up and my back muscles to spasm AND created panic attacks as a result. If you tell your earthly guardians that these things are happening, what should their response be? You’d think it was obvious but, the obvious result didn’t happen. So the eggs kept getting served at dinnertime. After a few years of the same complaints my incredibly jaded parents finally relented and I went for an allergy exam at the Foothills Medical Campus sometime in the early 80s. I took a test where they poke a whole bunch of holes in your back coated with various stimuli to see what would react with your skin to discover allergic reactions and guess what happened? Pets and eggs flared up severely as well as all the typical asthmatic reactions too.
So, there was, ahem, egg, on my parents’ faces on that one.
Do you think that little taste of reality would teach them any humility? Not a chance. Remember I said my folks were as jaded as the native green Chinese stone itself? That doesn’t even come close to what they were inside. Like brimstone. After being proven wrong about that little cry for help that I so desperately gave, my parents became even more hard-hearted. For so-called Christian parents they were a lesson in what NOT to be. In fact, the polar opposite, in hindsight. Even asking my father to stop at the pharmacy to pickup an asthma inhaler on his way home from work was a dubious task indeed. After that, I learned to hide my health problems as best as I could, to avoid anger and strife from my crazy parents.
You see, that wasn’t even the start of my health problems. I had many more to be discovered but, as hard-headed as mommy and daddy were, I was even more scared to tell them of the many other problems I was having. And I didn’t even scratch the surface until recently, too.
As it turns out, I have several different anxiety disorders, none of which have been officially clinically diagnosed because my eyes about the situation have only recently been opened to the terrifying fact. But, the facts remain that I have five different neuroses and a neuro-developmental disorder. Once I get a health plan to cover the cost of a $4,000 psychological diagnosis, I can then begin to get the help that I need, IE, drugs and therapy required for such a messed up bit of wiring that is my God-given brain. Intelligence? Abundant and then some. Emotional stability? Non-existent.
It’s a mess up there.
I have prayed to Jesus for many years but to no avail, but I’m not one to argue with The Good Lord’s timing. Perhaps now was when the plan allowed to be able to see what I am, and what I need to live happily. As it turns out, what I need to be happy in life is far different from my neuro-typical counterparts. But, that’s a whole ‘nother kettle of fish – perhaps in a future blog post. Still, I just wish I could have been spared such an excruciatingly painful life and been born to parents who might have actually saw what was happening and sought the proper clinical help. There was always some distraction…
Kicked out of preschool, always in trouble at elementary school, hyper-active, hyper-focus and lack of focus at the same time, easily bored, trouble keeping a job after school, getting evicted, insomnia, out-of-control anxiety, anger issues, bullying, alcoholism, difficulty keeping friendships, staying off the street, etc. etc. etc. and the list is endless.
Add to that mess an antagonistic little brother and life quickly became unbearable. Danny the Deviant held a job for a while when we were in Calgary living on our own, but, he lost it somehow. I found him some work as a temp employee where I work at Ingram & Bell, a now defunct medical supply warehouse that is now a wholly-owned subsidiary of Baxter Corporation. Even then, I was always looking out for him, despite his sadism, but I never got a thank-you from him for helping him out. My boss, Tim Geddes, thought he was pretty ungrateful for not thanking both him and me for the job, and the money he needed for his share of the rent.
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Eventually Dan had to concede defeat and go back home to live with mom and dad in Kaslo. I was so thankful for that. His antagonism got to a point where we fought for the worst time one day and without my dad there to break us up, he got me so angry I really thought I was going to kill him this time. Danny the Deviant had that effect on people. He loved getting a reaction from others, no matter the cost either, which made him especially sadistic, hateful and mean-spirited. He actually got off on causing the anger and pain of those around him. He never quit until he got what he wanted too. He was relentless. Utterly relentless. Selfish too, as if other people exist for HIS amusement.
Keep it up Danny, see how long you live this time.
I lived alone for a time, and it was the best time of my life, really. The peace and quiet was so nourishing it was crazy. My company though, Ingram & Bell, wanted to consolidate in Edmonton, and perhaps, in hindsight I should have moved but, in the end I voted no, and they moved our office to Edmonton. Leaving me without a job. I spent a year out of work during most of 1996, when Calgary and Alberta were going though an especially tough economic time as well. Brutal timing.
Danny the Liar went to school in Vancouver a short time later, and one night he phoned me and I’ll never forget that night. He phoned me up and told me, “I just did four lines of coke.”
My heart sank. Now my little shit brother was… a drug addict… ON COCAINE NO LESS.
I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t sleep the rest of the night ’cause he phoned me at 3am with that bit of news. Similar late night phone calls ensued, bragging about snorting cocaine. Bragging? Sickening.
My God! He was snorting cocaine?!? In Vancouver no less? A town with a reputation all its own for that sort of low-life shite. And he was actually bragging about it too! That night changed my view of him forever. A sexual deviant, a liar, a thief, and now a drug user?!? It was all too much. We’ll never know how much coke he snorted in total. Even a little is too much. Apparently, he got it from these east-Indian friends he was living with there. They showed him a trunk full of weapons that had “bodies or no bodies” on them. A term they used to prove if those weapon were used in crimes or not or were untraceable firearms. Disgusting. Now he’s with people who do drugs and cart around weapons that have killed people. Lord help me.
Snort another line Dan.
All this didn’t really sink in for me, I just pretended that it happened to someone else. This is what the mind does when it goes it damage control mode. You can’t allow yourself to accept it as fact because the info just becomes too traumatizing to believe. Enter the repressed memory filing system.
A few months later I hilariously offered him a place to stay after his schooling was completed, my father had to convince me. I reluctantly relented and he came right back to our little apartment in downtown Calgary. What a sucker I am. After all that? I was just doing the Christian thing for him.
But, here’s where the fun kept going… His first fucking night back in Calgary in MY apartment and what does he do? He walks a few blocks downtown and finds God-knows-who drug dealer AND BUYS MARIJUANA. AND, brings it back to MY apartment! Making me an accessory to a crime! I couldn’t believe it! Do you accept someone’s help for room and board and then make them an accessory to NARCOTIC OFFENCES?!? NO! OF COURSE NOT. Danny the Drug User indeed.
I had to think fast. What was I going to do? So I taught him a lesson he’d never forget. Not the usual fist throwing methods which were fun and spelled immediate relief but something that would stick with him… forever. I let him roll up his little doobies of weed and then we both proceeded to smoke away, BUT, I turned on my old acting chops and faked a convulsive reaction to the drugs. I’m a genius. No, really, I am! (My IQ score says so, HA!) My little acting part in this sick game known as drug-using-sibling was a complete success. Little Danny started freaking out and thought I had a life-and-death reaction to the drugs he bought from Joe Whofuckingcares on some street corner, that he immediately grabbed up every bit of the drugs and threw them all in the garbage! He apologized profusely and swore he’d never do it again. Success! A life lesson has been learned!
My old acting days didn’t go to waste did they? LOL.
Can I get my Academy Award now please? The award for the Best Actor in a Narcotic Dramatic Series goes to… Carl! Thank-you. I’d like to thank God, my personal genius and the Academy. Thank-you and goodnight!
That’s gosh darn right Denzel!