The Tragic Beginning

Beauty has always been a very special part of my life- especially as a very young boy.  Now an adult, I am able to link my connection with Beauty to a past that was covered in fear, hate, disgust, and sadness.

I was not always a person of happiness or gratitude.  I was not always filled with comfort or acceptance.  I was, for a major part of my adolescent years, an outcast who's days were spent fearing classmates' physical and verbal abuse and loathing my home-life.  There was not a day that would go by that wasn't mutilated by harsh words or hurtful slander about my living situation, me being gay, or my 'ugly' face.  These horrible memories are still very alive in me today as I strive to work through one of the most life-threatening diseases of my days.  Addiction.

I am an alcoholic.  And I have been sober since January 23rd, 2010.

As a child of a very young Mother (16 when she gave birth to me) and a Father who died a few weeks before I was born (a fatal motorcycle accident in my hometown), I was raised with Love and Family early on.  Aunts, Uncles, Grandparents, and friends of the family all lent my Mother a much-needed helping hand to insure that I was given the structure I needed to be raised with integrity.  All was well until I grew old enough to harbor hateful feelings inside for the structure of my family that I felt was broken.  I already knew I was different than other 'kids' my age.  My 'real' dad was gone and I was living in a home of young parents (mom and step-dad) who had no financial means to supply us (a brother and a sister) with 'what I thought we needed to be just like everybody else.'  My hate grew deeper.  I began to hate my life and wish I were no longer a part of it.
--I feared the busride to school everyday- for that is where I was physically abused the most.
--I would hide all of my talents in drawing, spelling, and singing from all my classmates- for fear they would cause a scene and begin to horrify me infront of the whole classroom...or ruin my artwork...
--I would find some reason to abandon gymclass and lunch period, because my bullying was always hightened during these times.
--I ran away from opportunities to succeed in school- because I was afraid of being beaten for the gifts I possessed that no one else had...or cared about.

I had created a very secluded world in which to live in everyday.  A world without friends.  A world without confrontation.  And a world which would also become hidden from the rest of my family for years to come.  After all, I did not need my step Father or my Mother finding out that I was the main reason bullying was happening at the local elementary/middle schools.  All the kids knew who I was and not in a good way.  I could never let my parents know that.  Ever.  I lived in secrecy for the remainder of my young life.

It is at this point in time that I began searching for ways to find ease, grace, and Beauty for myself.  I was a young boy without any social outlet what-so-ever; I needed something to latch onto.  While my young parents were busy drinking with their friends until all hours of the morning (nearly every couple of nights) I would hide upstairs in our barely heated country house and find complete peace with the 'things' I surrounded myself with.  I began collecting porcelain dolls and decorative items you might find at a gift shop.  I later began draping the walls of my little hide-away with fabrics and Christmas lights...and dried flowers and pretty pictures I drew.  My walls and ceiling were covered in 'things' and my desire to 'hoard' beautiful things grew stronger and stronger.  For it is with these things I wept every night...praying for a new life.

This was the only way I felt accepted and special in my own skin.  To create- in total privacy- a world of wonder and Beauty.  This place became my safety, my comfort, my serenity, and my 'home'.  But I was a prisoner to its magic from the very beginning.  I used the comfort I received from this hoarding and decorating as an excuse to not continue to form a bond with my parents or any of my peers.  I felt I was better than them all...that I was entitled to so much more in life...I felt that my 'pretty things' were more available to me than my own family was.  I felt that I was jaded and needed a savior.  That never really happened- a savior never really came to lift me from this place of hatred I was in.  I grew deeper into these feelings until the threat was made to my parents that I would end my own life if they did not change and make things better for me.  I was desperately wanting that 'normal' life that all my peers had so much that it drove me to hate my own family and my own life.  Though I had Beauty to keep my mind from exploding in anger and disgust, I lived this way for many years.  On the outside- appearing strong and able...on the inside- dying.  On the outside- Beauty was alive...on the inside- life never looked so ugly.

From this young boy- afraid of his own destiny- I turned into a lost, hollow, fragmented young man.  I had many relationships (all of which I walked away from without affection), I played many deceitful games on my friends and family- I took the trust of everyone that knew me.  I used and took advantage of those that were drawn to me.  I began to take from others what I felt was never given to me.  And I let this behavior drive me right into the hands of alcoholism which began at age 19.  Ten years were spent being totally fixated on drinking- sometimes social...but in the later years, very private (much like the little boy who used to hide away all day long and create beauty)- I did the same with my drinking.  I spent my whole college career wrapped around the finger of alcohol (privately every night while creating Beauty in my small studio apartment overlooking Detroit)- but still graduated in the top percentile of my class and on the Dean's List.  I had put the 'mask of Strength' on for 5 years as I walked through my college education.  But I was continuing to die everyday...every night.  And again- my family was to never know.  I did not need them to know their son had hated his early life so much that it drove him into alcoholism...which had its hold on many other members of my family at the time.  I watched my beloved Grandmother Barbara Hendy die of alcoholism- and it was the hardest loss I will ever remember.  She was the one person I wanted to be like.  She was the one person I wanted to see smile.  She was my only friend for quite some time.  She was probably the only one in the whole family that knew I was troubled at an early age- she knew.  And I knew she knew.  But still we were silent about it.  She died before we ever really got to 'know' each other on the level I so desperately wanted to experience with her.  I miss her everyday.

Barbara Hendy; 1942-2000.

I have been sober for two years now.  And continue to uncover pieces and parts of me that have been damaged for all these years.  Like an onion, I am lifting layer off of layer...revealing the tormented center of my spirit I had hidden for nearly 20 years.  This is the time of bandaging and healing the wounds of my life thus far.  This is why it is called 'Recovery.' 

Beauty has led me out of some of the most tragic moments of my life- beginning with the early onset of hatred for my life as a young boy...leading all the way to my adult years and my battle with alcoholism.

Beauty represents so much more to me that 'pretty things' and 'how-to' guidelines.  Beauty represents a part of me that is looking for Peace.  For Comfort.  For Home.  Beauty is used to tell my story.  And to this day, I can still feel the little boy inside...but this time- he is not clawing at the walls trying to leave this life.  He is living this life- Through his Beauty.