Early Days - Tumblr Posts

This would have been useful to read eight months ago.

I think, I think one of the worst things about realizing you’ve been abused is the actual realization. Slowly learning what’s normal and what isn’t. Having it smack you in the face that “oh god that wasn’t normal that’s not normal all” and it’s just this horrifying realization

And it gets worse. You remember more trauma. You remember more of the hell they put you through. You wonder how they still think they did nothing wrong?

You doubt. You refuse to doubt. You panic. You become this mess of “is this real” and “I know this is real” and “I don’t want this to be real”

When he kicked me out initially and I dragged my shamed, mortified, and heartbroken ass to my parents place, I spent days in bed with silent tears rolling down my face.

I don't remember going to work, but that doesn't mean it didn't happen. It's a blur.

But something broke up the monotony of misery. My dad knocked on the door and handed me a care package that had been dropped off. It had fuzzy socks, chocolate, and two movies.

I was basically inconsolable at this point and still very much under his spell. But this brought me a bit out of my fog. It was a thoughtful gesture that really meant the world to me.

I repeat, friendship is a vastly underrated relationship.

Friendship is a vastly underrated relationship.

Double Standard Series - Episode 1

Example 1.  When we were still teenagers, he had a bearded dragon. One of its favourite things to eat was mixed greens.

He made me wash and scrub each leaf individually.  An entire package of this shit.  It would take me over an hour.

On a rare occasion where he volunteered to do the cleaning, I walked in on him washing the lettuce en masse in a colander. You know, the way any other reasonable person would.

I asked why I was forced to clean it in such an over-the-top way. He told me that I was inherently lazy and that if he didn’t give me very specific, detailed, and meticulous instructions that I would slack and his animal would die.

He was protecting his animal and making me a better person at the same time.  He was insulted that I didn’t see it that way.

Support Character - Part 1

When we were teenagers and I was still living at home, he worked very hard to get me to play Ultima Online. It's an online RPG game, similar in style to World of Warcraft.

Silly me, I thought he wanted me to participate in something he enjoyed. Of course not, he wanted me to play healer.

That can be fun in some scenarios, but of course it wasn't here. I didn't get any input on quests, areas or achievements. It equated to me following him around everywhere, and clicking the heal while he played.

I was in the support role. It was all about him. It was to be the theme of the next 12 years of my life.

photo by Mike McCartney showing Paul after a Cavern All-Nighter, 1961.

"I mainly watch Lennon. He's like a caged animal, never mind a Beatle. Not that I've got anything against my brother, but he's just a brother (you know, the one who picks his nose and won't come off the toilet 'cos he's playing his guitar or reading those nudy books). Lennon just stands there, legs apart, defying you to come up an' hit him, with the odd, razor sharp intro and mongol movement, but Paul gets the girls (and some of the musical lads) going with Till there was you. It' s a most unusual, Dad orientated, melodic song in the middle of all the rock 'n' roll screamers. Then he finishes 'em off with a more than passable Long Tall Sally.

         When it's all over and the magic Sesame Street door to the drezy finally opens and SLAMS behind me (to keep out the fans), the inevitable 'the Coke's warm' follows . . . usually from George. After stripping off the dripping black T-shirts and leathers and towelling down their sweat saturated bodies, they dress in blue jeans and black polos. Then the 'Cavern Conga' snakes back through the girls once more and down to the pints of bitter. This procedure continues ad infinitum till the pubs close and then we all sit it out in the drezy till morning.

         At daybreak Paul and I climb our weary legs out of the all night cave and headed, tireder but somehow wiser (and certainly happier) for the number 86 bus stop, where we look at the latest winkle pickers in shoe shop windows or sit on pillar-boxes with the wind whipping up from the Mersey, and wait for the first bus home... magic days." from: Mike McCartney, "The Macs: Mike McCartney's family album" (1981)

SOMEONE IN PHIL’S CHAT SAID “SUPERWHOLOCK” AND AHHHHHHH

I DID NOT WANT TO BE REMINDED OF MY EARLY INTERNET DAYS!! D: