Prayer Works

Dear Diary,

I went from winter coats to camouflage and speaking with the most southern accent in a matter of days. Soon I was living in Algoma, Mississippi and attending South Pontotoc again. It was weird being around all of the people that grew up with my parents and family. People who remembered me in diapers yet I had no clue who these people who smelled like moth balls really were. I fell in love with some of them though. School was tough at the beginning because it was a complete culture shock for me.... I played American Football and Basketball that year and found friends there. At the beginning I felt like the outsider but I was getting good at the whole camilion thing. My friend was still ignoring me at school pretty much but we were hanging out outside of that and I think I hooked up with all of her friends... Not something I am particularly proud of... and when I say hooked up I mean we were "boyfriend-girlfriend" for a day or so. I was involved at the church there and did enjoy hanging with some of the guys who were mainly my relatives but at night I would sit up late on my knees begging God to send me back to Brazil.... It was the most faithful of my praying days. Funny thing is.... I was already sneaking around and "smoking" cigarrettes. Although I didn't inhale I thought I looked pretty cool. The school year flew by and summer was here again. I was in full puberty..... zits, awkward peach fuzz mustache, and the nose of Tucan Sam. I always felt less than others. I made friends with the "cool" kids but I still felt beneath them... like an outsider. I have always been a bit different even when it came to clothes I dress with whatever I like even if it isn't the "style" and back then I loved going through my grandparents closet and finding all of my dad's and his brothers old clothes and I would where them. What has become the vintage fad I guess but I was wearing Nike's that were 15 years old at the time and I liked them but people would talk about me. They were wearing the latest Mosimo shirt that every other guy was wearing and they had the "girl." I was the funny guy who made everybody laugh and who took risks. I was crazy and didn't care about the consequences and was not afraid of getting in to trouble. I was terrified! Mainly of being alone and the only one to hurt so much inside. My grandparents neighbor who I had a crush on and we were BFF's had a crush on every friend that came to visit me and was asking me to hook her up with them. I hooked her up with my friend who I will call Jay. He would come stay the night at my grandparents house and we would sneak out to go see her or she would come see us. I thought I loved her... we had been through alot together... her brother's suicide and her alcoholic father's verbal abuse of her. I was there for her I thought and I would sit there night after night watching them hold each other and listen to them ask me about there problems. She would invite friends over that I really didn't want to hang out with but I would because I didn't want to sit and watch them make out. Music was a big thing for me and always had been. I didn't just listen to songs... I attached myself to songs and they expressed how I felt.... the singer was singing about me...well... in my mind anyway. Aerosmith had just released their album "Get A Grip" and the song of the summer was "Crying" and I was captivated by the video. 1) it was Alicia Friggin Silverstone 2) It was about someone being in the shadows of a love affair... taken for granted....and I could relate. That song would come to mean alot more to me than a preteen crush though. My parents soon informed me that they had been offered a chance to go back to Brazil at which point I became beyond extatic.... they told me it wouldn't be the same city I grew up in but I didn't care!!! I was going home... my prayers were answered.... even this cruel God who sent me to the Ukraine was finally listening and sending me back home! But home is where the heart is....

The Green Green Grass of Germany

Dear Diary,

My soul was numb. I stared out of the attic window and watched the kids out in the field playing soccer.... I loved soccer.... but no one would play with the American. We got T.V. of some overdubbed horrible Canadian shows that were dubbed over in German... go figure. I hated the snow, I hated going to the Ballet, I hated the 4 hours of Church, and I definitely hated the friggin' cabbage borscht crap we ate. My mom and I went back to the U.S. at one point in time to visit for a family type of emergency and I remember laying in a bed in Warsaw, Poland knowing that the next day I would be on my way far away from there and I could hardly sleep a wink. I also remember that flying back in I felt like I was going to throw up. At some point in time boarding school came up in conversation and before I knew it my mom and I were on our way to Germany where we checked out the school. I actually liked it. I hung out an entire day at the school and got to play soccer and basketball and talk to guys my age. The idea of not being in the Ukraine was spectacular. All the guys there were in to Butterfly knives and so I got one and the skiing there was amazing. We decided I would attend there the next year. So... sure enough the day came for me to head off and my parents and I went. It took a couple of days to register and unpack and of course my first day of school came. I was ok for a while but then it hit me like a ton of bricks.... that night I said goodbye to my mom and dad and had managed ok until my day hugged me and I broke. I was scared.... This would be the first time I would be alone. I watched my parents drive away and walked back in to the dorm where I began to do my chores for the evening. I got a shower, brushed my teeth and met the other guys from my floor in our head masters room. We had a devotional and I acted like the usual class clown and then off to bed we went. My roommate was weird and didn't really talk. I laid in my bed on the top bunk looking at the ceiling and then I started to sob, I felt so alone and scared. I felt like I was dying. It was my first panic attack. I got up and went down to the bead masters room and told them that I needed to call my parents and they told me that I could in the morning but I said no way that I needed to talk to them before they left down. I kept thinking....they are going to leave me. I also kept going back to when I was in pre-school and my dad would drop me off and have to sneak away before I realized he was gone. I was FREAKING out!!!! I said "Now!" and she called them at midnight and I talked to them. They said they would come see me in the morning before they left. I went back to my room where I began to pray...."please don't let them leave me! Please..." The next day my parents picked me up and I told them I couldn't stay but I couldn't go back to the Ukraine that I wanted to go back to Brazil. After an entire day of begging and them talking to other missionaries and my family back home they decided I didn't have to stay. I was on my way back to the U.S. to live with my grandparents and my sister while they went back to the Ukraine. I still think about that day alot..... I really wish I had stuck in there and pushed through.... I think I would have liked Germany.... They had some beautiful green grass.....

I Hate God

Dear Diary,

We arrived in L'Viv after we slowly cooked on an overnight train from Kiev. It was so hot that I had stripped down to nothing and had thought about stripping my skin off. The windows were sealed and I had no control over the temperature in the cabin. It got way better though.... soon I found out that my parents and I were sharing the same hotel room and I was sleeping on a sofa sleeper. The restaurant at the hotel played "Lady In Red" so many times that I thought I would commit a hate crime before we left. It was so cold!!! I would go outside where the hotel had a park of sorts and write letters to my old neighbor back in the U.S. that I had a crush on and then I would write letters to my friends back in Brazil but I never mailed them. I would also walk around talking to myself and singing alot because I didn't have friends and no one wanted to play with the "American." We met another missionary family and they had 3 girls.... I immediately made a move on the oldest who was 16 and I was 12. After she rejected me I made a move on her sister who was 12 and I guess since I was the only option we became kissing friends. But we didn't hang that much mainly because the parents belonged in an institution somewhere. I played Skip-Bo, Uno, and every card game under the sun with my mom to pass the days. Did I mention the fact that the nights would last for freaking ever!!!! We had to get "Twix" or "Sneaker Bars" from the black market and once in a blue moon I could find a Coca Cola.... Oh yeah!!! I was in the same hotel room with my parents for 6 months!!!!!!!!!! The day came when we moved in to our own apartment and I had my OWN room. I was miserable though. I would stay up all night reading and listening to the only cd I had of Brian Adams. I was being home schooled by my mom which made me extremely happy... yeah right.... I started cheating on my work by looking at the back of the books. I would sit during the day when I was supposed to be doing my school work and stare and dream about being back in Brazil. As the days went on I grew more and more bitter. We did have a pizza place that served American Style pizza and some form of a coke but they had the "Ace of Base" cd on repeat and I would have choked a nun for some earplugs! I was so angry at my parents.... It got to the point that I would go up in the attic and just cry... When my mom would tell me to do something I would do it but cuss her in my head and then I started acting on it. When she would walk out of the room I would throw things. One day when my parents left I threw everything in my room around and grabbed the light hanging from my ceiling and bashed it. I grew up with christian parents and surrounded by the Gospel but I didn't even want to think about God. The day came when I was in my bed and it was close to 3am and I was thinking. I was so angry I couldn't sleep. I wanted out!!! "God can't you hear me?!? Why would you bring my parents here if you knew I would feel this way?!?" Then cam the whopper.... " If God is real and he brought my parents here.... Then I hate God!"

What Happened?

Dear Diary,

Days went by and life had changed. I wasn't even hitting puberty yet and I was all messed up inside. The trauma of abuse and then my friend killing himself!!! That was alot to take in.... On top of that it was time to go to the Ukraine. It was a long journey to Kiev. I should have known it was going to be bad when we boarded a prop plane that looked like it had been built by the wright brothers! We landed in Kiev and my gut hurt.... Going to our apartment I noticed it was nothing like the pictures my parents had shown me. There was no real sunshine and I didn't see the cheerful kids skipping in the streets. All of the buildings looked the same and they looked dark. I found out real quick that finding a coke was impossible and we were lucky to find some diet pepsi. Our apartment was really not livable. The bathroom was... I won't even mention. We had to boil water 3 or 4 times to even get it close to drinking it. My parents and I basicly shared a bedroom and they had to sleep on a futon while we were there. I HATED IT!!!!!!!!! I realized that it wasn't a vacation anymore.... I was homesick... not for the U.S. but for my home in Brazil. I really had no friends in Kiev. The other missionaries that lived there drove me insane!!! It's amazing how much my heart aches just remembering that place. I just sat for about 5 minutes staring at these screen trying to remember all that happened while we were in Kiev and it was a battle because I really wanted to block it out. There was a missionary there with his mother who I really liked but I didn't get to hang out with him that much but he seemed like a cool guy. I cried alot.... my parents and I cried alot. I begged God to let me go back to Brazil. I begged my parents to go back to Brazil. I ended up in the futon with them on several occasions. We were in Kiev for training and we were supposed to live in L'viv. The came when we boarded the train to head to L'viv. Just as the plane warned me the train was not a good sign of things to come. As the train rolled on I felt as if I were on a one way track and with every mile another part of my soul was dying. What happened?

Living Out A Beatles Song

Dear Diary,

Wow.... I am really sorry for not writing for a while but life has been a little crazy lately... A good crazy... God is showing up in ways I can't begin to describe right now. Besides, this is the sad part of my history blog things. Where was why? Oh yeah, I left my home in Brazil and spent time in the U.S. with my sister and grandparents before my parents and other sister would arrive and then we would continue to the Ukraine. My grandparents neighbor and I became really good friends. It was that summer when my Uncle took my friend and I out to hang out in Oklahoma. When we landed and my dad picked me up he informed me that my friend had committed suicide. It was my first run in with suicide. I remember that "Fields Of Gold" was huge at that time and the video made me sick for some reason. At the funeral home I stared at his face for what seemed like hours and there was a shiny glitter like think under his eye which I kept thinking was a tear. I kept waiting for him to breathe. He was my friend and the brother of my grandparents neighbor who had become one of my best friends. Actually, she was a crush of sorts and here she was in shock. I walked around outside talking to her but what do you say? I was pissed! I was sad! I can't explain what I felt inside really. I kept getting flashback's of when he was alive and he came around. He had a tough life. His mom and dad had divorced so he and his sister had a piece of crap stepfather who loved to get drunk and then beat the crap out of him. When he was 13 they sent him away to a boys farm facility kind of thing because he was "unruly." YA THINK?!? I would be unruly to if my sister and mom were getting the crap beat out of them. I used to ride my grandpa's four-wheeler down behind there house and one day I saw my friend who I will call Nathan come running up our back yard. He threw up all over the back patio and asked for a phone so he could call his grandmother. He said his stepdad had just punched him in the stomach. I ran inside and grabbed the phone and gave it to him. I could here his stepdad yelling from the back porch of his house. I ran back inside our place looking for my grandpa and when he wasn't there I looked for his gun. Right about that time my granddad pulled up and told us both to get in the house and we waited inside until Nathan's grandmother picked him up. That was the last time I saw him alive. He took his entire bottle of anti-depressant's one night while he was at the farm. He told another boy he was going to take the pills that night and then he wrote a note. He expected the boy to tell on him and then maybe his mom would rescue him and leave her deadbeat husband and life would be good again. But help never came and he is gone forever.... As I type this I still feel the sting of hurt that I felt that day. I still go to his grave almost every time I go back to Mississippi to visit family. I found a picture his mom gave me just the other day and I could hear that haunting song begin

" Many years have passed since those summer days
Among the fields of barley
See the children run as the sun goes down
Among the fields of gold
You'll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
You can tell the sun in his jealous sky
When we walked in the fields of gold
When we walked in the fields of gold
When we walked in the fields of gold " - Sting

Vacation?

Dear Diary,

Life continued along and I kept the dreams to myself. My cousin suffered no consequences and I did not tell my parents about all that had happened after that. During that time my oldest sister came to visit and when she left I realized how much she meant to me. I was sad for a while and I remember that she made us watch the Bodyguard... yeah... the chick flick with Kevin and Whitney. After that every time I heard that song I thought about my sister and it made me really sad. I didn't want to study anymore. I hated school. I couldn't focus on the work and would just not do it. I didn't mind my teacher very well and finally one day she confronted me about it and I broke down and told her about the dreams and what happened when I was younger. She told my parents and we talked again. Once again after tears and apologies I didn't feel any different. I had resigned to the fact that this was life and to just deal with it. I was very bitter towards the world. On the outside I didn't show it but inside I was coming apart. I was easily irritated by my friends and others and very emotional. One night my parents took me out to eat and it was just them and myself.... I should have known something was up because my sister wasn't there. They asked me what I would think about going to the Ukraine....umm..... and they showed me some brochures of children running in school uniforms through the sunny streets and I said " Sure, looks fun." I didn't put it together that this was a permanent move. I thought it was going to be a cool vacation but that we would be back in Brazil again. I was 12 years old. The day came when I had to leave. I left before the rest of my family because I was going to spend some extra time with my sister back in the U.S. and start school there while we waited to go to the Ukraine. I remember waking up that morning and going to the church. I sat near the back with my parents and then the church called me to the front. My "Tio" which means "Uncle" because that's what we call our friends dads there and aunts are "Tia's" prayed for me and talked about how I was a part of their family and they gave me a shirt. He hugged me as he was crying and I started crying. I stood at the door while everyone walked out and hugged me and said goodbye. Everyone except for my best friend who remained at a distance. I thought he was mad at me.... We were almost to my car when I looked back towards the church one last time and then saw my best friend come charging across the street and he hugged me and cried and we said goodbye. My stomach sank as we pulled away. We stopped off at my "girlfriends" house because she couldn't make it to church. I said goodby and started to walk away after she handed me a note but then I got the courage and turned around and kissed her...yeah!!! I thought I was the man like Kevin in The Bodyguard. We drove to Sao Paulo where I caught my flight to the U.S. As the plane took off I cried.... I cried... and I cried some more. It wasn't until I met my sister in Miami that I stopped crying. That wouldn't be the last time though....

Same Song Different Dance

Dear Diary,

Sorry for missing a couple of days but had guests in town from Brazil keeping me pretty busy. So where did I leave off? We arrived back in Brazil and we went to the church first thing to reunite with friends but I noticed my best friend wasn't there so I asked my parents if I could run to his house, literally, because he lived only a few blocks from the church and they said yes. My heart was about to explode as I was running because I love to surprise people and I really missed him and his family. I got to his apartment building and ran up the stairs and pounded on the door but there was no answer. I stood there for a few minutes in disbelief because it was kind of late. I finally gave up and started walking down the stairs when I heard someone running up the stairs and there he was. They had just left to go to the church when I was running that way and now he was running to meet me. We went out to eat about 9 o'clock because that's when alot of us went in Brazil. We had a new journeymen fly in to teach my sister and I and you guessed it... I was in love again. The church was growing alot and I was growing up and started to feel the pressure of the preteen phase. I missed my oldest sister alot and I didn't get to see her as much anymore. The nightmares of MS were constant now and I could feel a difference inside of me. My best friend and I tried smoking... we actually went to a news stand and bought a pack of cigarrettes and smoked one a piece. I felt horrible because I knew we were doing something wrong. I pushed down the bad feelings. One evening my parents and I went over to a church families house and while the adults were drinking coffee and talking I was in the back room with the oldest of their family checking out the musical instruments because music was already my passion. I have said it before but I will say it again because each time it hurts more and more.... When those you trust and look up to hurt you it crushes so much more. I remember the excuses as to why I shouldn't say anything.... "This is normal" "Don't you do this at your other friends houses" "It's a game that we play among friends but we don't tell the adults because they don't understand and we might get in trouble." If my spirit hadn't been severally hurt before now it was critically injured. I didn't say anything though. I would lie awake at night trying not to fall asleep in fear of the dreams that would visit. I felt disgusting and disconnected. One day I got my old arm leash that my parents used when we would go in to crowded places so I wouldn't wander off and get lost or kidnapped and decided I had had enough. I think I was 11 at this time. I tied it around my neck and pulled as hard as I could... I could feel the blood rushing to my head and everything going black but then when my hands started to collapse the pressure let off and I was back again. So I tied it to the back of my bad and leaned forward and this time it was working..... Right as I could feel the blood pumping in my head my sister opened the door and screamed and then went and told my parents. My parents sat me in the living room.... they asked what was going on and I told them about MS when I was 4. They were shocked. I can't remember exactly what was said but I know that they said they were sorry and they wish they had known. Nothing happened though.... That I was aware of anyway.... I still hurt.... I changed after that. I still loved my parents but something definately had changed and my behavior was an example of that. The snowball had begun to roll.....

Back In The USA

Dear Diary,

We arrived back in the US and settled in to a house in Tupelo, MS. It was an older house and not like Brazil at all. I missed Brazil so much. That was my home. I started American school and we began attending the church there. It was a massive church full of rich snobby American kids. I got along with one of the kids at the church but that was about it. At school I met who would become my best friends state side. We did everything together from go carts to sneaking up on his neighbors and egging their house. I had a crush on this girl who I would draw pictures of and send it to her.... she was one of the snobby kids but I asked her to go to the movies(Did I mention that i was in the 4th grade.) Moving along, I started to enjoy my school more and more but I began getting in to trouble quite a bit and was locked in the closet at school almost every day for doing something. I enjoyed my time in the closet because I found an old T.V. which was one of those small portable ones and I plugged it in and caught the Price Is Right and if I was lucky Days of Our Lives. In the summer I was at my mamaw and papaws alot riding four wheelers and fishing alot. My best friend and I would jump over things on the four wheeler to see if we could pop tires when we landed. I made friends with my grandparents neighbors kids. The girl and I became really good friends and her older brother terrorized us with bb guns and such. I would visit some of my cousins on my Grandma's side but I tried not to go around a certain one. I was always on edge when I was there and usually would wake up crying and asking my Uncle to take me home. It wasn't them... I was just terrified because they all lived close together and I imagined "the abuser" somehow getting me. My cousins thought I was a whimp because I would do that but I didn't tell them why, I just said I wanted to go home. I felt bad when I would stay at my Grandma's because I would get anxiouty and sneak and call my mamaw and papaw and have them come pick me up. Nothing happened that year thankfully and before I knew it the year had passed and I was telling my oldest sister,my best friend, and family goodby but I was more than ready to get home to Brazil.

Shocker

Dear Diary,

I know that I have been revisiting my past to lead me to the present but I am going to have to break the rules, Today, actually the last two days have been really tough. I don't want to get in to the theology of things because I guess I am not one to say what is and what is not biblical. I have heard both sides of this argument and am not going to say I know because I don't. So here it is, I have accepted the fact that I am an addict. I have known this for 11 years or more. At some point in time I started down the path of thinking I am healed. Let me clarify what that means. I know that God broke me free from that bondage and gave me the tools to fight it and I know of people who God completely removed that thorn from their side. For a while I didn't think about getting high. I quit going to meetings and being around people in recovery. I might have had a thought come in every now and again but I took on the attitude that I was "healed." I might have not been using but I have the addict personality. It's all about me. To add to that I rationalized that alcohol was different. I could have a beer with dinner or go out on occasion and have a little fun as long as I wasn't "drunk." I have done this for years now. For a while I managed it okay. Slowly but surely I started drinking more and it's not that I drank every day or stayed drunk all the time. I would social drink but have 8 beers compared to everyone else who had 2, however, I would usually sneak those in while others weren't looking to ensure I got my buzz. Next thing I know I am not even hiding it anymore because I just surrounded myself with those who were ok with it and I talked people in to thinking it was ok as long as I didn't do it all the time. I dropped money like it was nothing. Looking at everyone else who went out on the weekend I thought it was normal right? When my ex-wife and I seperated the first time I was drinking every single night. We got back together and I slowed down but we both were drinking now. She did better than I did. She could drink the 2 drinks and stop meanwhile it took more to satisfy my thirst. Recovery wasn't even in my thought process at this point in time because I wasn't getting high or thinking about it. At this point I was on the road with an Artist traveling around the country in a rolling bar. Funny how I didn't see it coming. I stumbled a couple of times towards the end of my marriage and I got high. I can start to make excuses as to why I did but that's what I do as an addict. Some people eat, some sleep, and there are those who look at porn but I choose chemicals. During my divorce I stumbled again and I got high and a friend called my sisters who called my mom who drove to Nashville to see me. I didn't use after that because I remembered the hurt and how much it would kill my family. I did drink though. I was out drinking every night again. Spending money again until I was broke and broken inside. That was one year ago. I moved to Jackson to be with my parents and clear my head. I didn't drink as much... during the week anyway. I would wait until I was on the bus and drink enough to last me a week. I did try to work on things and I started going to a counselor. I had an amazing friend who talked me through some major things. After going to counseling I stopped drinking..... Until late September. I hadn't seen my counselor in a while because she took a couple of months off to have a baby and it had been a couple of months so I figured I could go back to a couple of beers socially. I was back to my old routine again. It started out kinda slow but soon enough I was out every night again. So, I went to my first counseling session with Dr. Pratt. While we are talking and I shared with him about my drinking a little to much and all of that I was waiting on the diagnosis.... He told me that I needed to hit an AA meeting immediately if not sooner. Honeslty it pissed me off. I haven't used drugs in a long time so why go to an AA meeting? He continued to say that for the last 8 years I have been dry not sober and that I am still an addict with or without the substance my thinking is that way and if I am not working a program then I am not healthy. It was a slap in the face. I knew he was right.... I left his office thinking how stupid I was and am but didn't go to a meeting. So.... the last couple of days I have had a ghost from my past visiting me and it has been painful. I haven't answered her haunting but I have been thinking about her alot and yesterday morning I woke up with the sickest feeling in my gut. I didn't have an appointment again with Dr. Pratt until the 4th and I just needed someone to talk to. I sat at the computer where I began writing a song idea and praying that God would just give me release and take the hurt and thoughts from my head when my phone rang and it was Dr. Pratt who said someone canceled an appointment and did I want to come in. I ran through the house frantically to get ready meanwhile shouting to God thank you! I get there and we talk at which point I tell him that the AA thing through me for a loop. Honestly, over the weekend I had thought about the AA thing but I was scared at the big sign flashing in my head..... I told Dr. Pratt that I am an alcoholic. It never clicked before. I have been through this!!! I know what denial is so why didn't I see it before!!! We talked a bit more and then I left his office and after a quick stop at Starbuck's I caught my first AA meeting. It sucked!!! I didn't want to be there but I knew I needed to be. It was my turn to speak and I thought I was going to throw up when I said "Hi, my name is Ben and I am an Addict and an Alcoholic." This is going to be hard work.... I picked up my sobriety chip and made the committment to living life with sober thinking again working my program and living my life in recovery. So January 27 is my sobriety birthday. I can never drink again. My brain can't even wrap around that.... Not a drop.... I almost have a panic attack thinking about it but today is today. Today I am sober and when tomorrow gets here then I will deal with that. I am afraid of what I am going to uncover underneath it all. When these scaled are pealed from my eyes and I see the damage caused to those around me.... There is so much more but I have already spilled enough for now. Maybe later I will write more about what was happening underneath and in between all of these events. I am trying to be cautious about who I write about because I don't want it to seem as though I am being spiteful.... but.... I do want to be real.

Joining The Country Club

Dear Diary,

I remember the first night at the new house sitting in our empty living room waiting on the movers to get there because in Brazil they are not in a big hurry. I was leaned up against Mary's arm holding tightly to her and drifting off to sleep. The next day I heard the doorbell ring and my mom's voice talking to a kid so I walked to the door and that's when I met my neighbor from across the street. He saw my bike coming off of the truck so he knew there was a kid at the house and we set off to discover the neighborhood. We became really good friends. Our Bairro which is like a name for a district or neighborhood was call "Country Club" which is pronounced Count-tree(roll the r) Cloo-be. This is was one of the wealthiest communities of Cascavel. But I hung out with the ones who weren't so wealthy... who actually were barely getting by. By hanging out with them I became the enemy of most of the rich kids. We formed our own little gangs and wouldn't hesitate to throw down at the sight of each other. We even had meetings where we made plans to ambush the rich kids with our slingshots filled with little berry's we picked off of trees. I introduced my friends to the Slip & Slide and we played games like who can slide down and not get hit by lemon's that the others were throwing at them. My parents started a new church that met in an old office that belonged to a church member. I loved my new church because it was all of my real friends from my old church's family that help my dad start it. The church started growing immediately. In school I had a hard time paying attention because I was a very hyper child who constantly being distracted. I caused my sisters alot of grief because I found entertainment in annoying the crap out of them. My sister Sonya was 7 years older and Sara was 5 years older than me. I would hide in their closet and wait for them to open the door and then I would jump out and kick them because I thought I was a ninja. I went to the emergency room a couple of more times because I broke my left arm climbing a tree and then I tried to jump a ramp on my bycycle and land without using my hands. Oh... and I forgot about another one of my visits to the emergency rooms!!! One night my dad was going to a men's choir practice and I went with him. At our church there was a massive iron gate that you had to open to park inside and when I say massive I mean massive. We got there and all of the guys pulled in and I went because I thought that maybe one of my friends would be there but they weren't there. So while the men started practice I went outside to play and I notice the gate still open. I walked over and put everything I had in to sliding this gate closed and i remember that it started moving and then that it wasn't moving to close but falling towards me and in a blink of an I was trapped underneath. I couldn't move it at all and the grid was crushing my head and my chest to the point I could hardly breathe and I screamed with what little breath I had and a car honked as it drove by. It seemed like an eternity before I heard them men running out and calling my name but they ran past me and in to the street because they thought I had been hit by a car. I screamed again and they finally saw me. Normally it would take probably 5 or 6 guys to lift this gate but one of my friends dad ran over and lifted this thing by himself and the rest of the guys grabbed me and we were off to the emergency room because I was bleeding alot from my eye and on top of my forehead. After several stitches and my mom getting there I was ok. Later on when the men looked at the gate to see what happened they noticed that the corner of the churches wall had a huge chunk taken out by the gate and it stopped the gate from crushing me but if it had fallen another inch I would not be here right now. That was my first encounter with God's sovereign intervention..... I made a full recovery and continued on. Years went on and I had adjusted to my new house. I still had nightmares of what happened to me in MS and the weight was still there but if I stayed busy I didn't think about it as much. I was safe now.... but my trust was broken again.... It always hurts the most when a person you love breaks that trust to..... I don't know if it was who or that it seemed to be happening over and over again but my spirit was fading slowly.... "Why is this happening? He is my friend... why is he doing this? It's my fault..." Even though I went before the church and told them I accepted Christ into my heart and I was Baptized I really didn't trust God and I only did it because my best friend went forward and I knew I could finally drink the juice and eat the bread at church. Looking back now I am amazed at how young I was when I began wearing the mask of "I have it all together, I'm fine." The day came when we were to come back to the U.S. for our furlough. We said goodbye to friends and to Mary who would not be back when we came back because her term was over and we left for Tupelo, MS where we would stay for a year.... Back to the land of gotten where hurt and pain is not forgotten....

The Dissapointment Of Tom Sawyer

Dear Diary,

He was the coolest kid in the neighborhood. He could do tricks on his bike that we all dreamed about. He was 8 years older than the rest of us and I thought he knew the answers to the universe. One of our favorite pass time's was to stand on my wall and jump in to a pile of hay where spiders would nest and roll out of it before we were bit...pretty smart ey? We also used to hang out on the concrete roof of my laundry room which was separate from my house. It was there that he began drawing things that I felt in my gut were wrong but I said nothing because he was the cool kid who I thought was a real life Tom Sawyer. Soon we were all hanging out at his house having a firecracker war with things we called bombina's which means "little bomb's" in English. After we were tired of that he asked me and another friend if we wanted to see something cool and of course we did! It was my first time to see porn but it wasn't like a magazine it was in the form of a comic book. I was 5 and totally curious but at the same time I felt the weight of shame surrounding me. He gave me the book.... I can't say that I was super thrilled about it.... I took it home though and as I was walking up the driveway to my house I stuffed it under my shirt... keep in mind that I am 5... I walk in with arms crossed over my chest you know...strolling to my room when I hear my mom's voice "Benjamin" and I knew I was busted. She discovered it and that night my dad had a talk with me. I didn't give up names though as to where I got the book. Late night's in Brazil you don't need cinemax to see anything cause all you have to do is stay up really late and it comes on network tv. My eyes were glued to the screen and I can't describe the thoughts going through my head. I started noticing the dreams more and more where I was back in MS and trapped behind the chicken coupe. I told my hero that I was busted but that I didn't give up names and he was relieved. Pressure, seems like pressure started building even at that age. It wasn't long until he had us neighborhood boys under his control. The shame grew heavier and I thought... Is this normal? Why does this keep happening? I kept it my secret.... It didn't stop until we bought a house on the other side of the city. I never went back to that neighborhood......

Gone Country

Dear Diary,

We arrived in Cascavel which was a tad bit smaller than Campinas/Sao Paolo which had around 19 million people at the time and Cascavel only had 1 million I believe. Life was different there for sure because it was more in the south it moved at a slower pace which Brazil compared to the U.S. moves at a way slower pace anyway. I made friends with my neighbor immediately and it wasn't long that I knew the entire neighborhood. I finally learned how to ride my bike that my parents had got me for Christmas because my feet could actually touch the petals now. I pretty much lived on my bike from then on. We started attending a church named Betel which is Bethel in English and I hated it at first. I didn't like the pastor at all, of course I was 5 at the time and most grown ups I didn't like all that much but something didn't sit well with me anyways. It took a little bit but then I made friends and began loving the church. I met my best friend that year. His name was Marcos and we were always together.... I mean always. You know when you are soclose to your friends that you actually have to empty your bladders at the same time... yeah we were that close. That is also the year that Mary came to teach me homeschooling. She was our Journeymen from Texas and of course I was in love at first site. I ate beans and rice every day and drank a ton of a drink called Guarana. We had a maid name Irani(spelling is questionable) who ironed everything including my underwear which was kinda creepy. I adjusted really quickly to Cascavel and soon it felt like I had been there my entire short life. I didn't think about the U.S. anymore... I thought about bycycles, slingshot's, and soon.... sex.

Home

Dear Diary,

So everything was packed from the crate that was shipped by boat early to our many suitcases. We left Memphis that day with a lot of our family standing at the gate because back then you could get past security. We met up with our friends from MLC(my friend who I thought was my girlfriend) at the Miami airport to continue our trip together. We both had Teddy Rubskins or however you spell that teddy bear that talked and told you stories. It was in the Miami airport that I said goodbye to my long time invisible friend Jason.... I wonder where he went anyway? I bet he went to the Virgin Island's and has been kicking it there! We arrived in Brazil and made our home in Campinas where my parents would go to language school for a year and I was sent to Kindergarden at the Brazilian school. I made friends fast there... my neighbors all around soon became my best friends! My first day at school was dreadful... I hated it... it was loud and noisy and there were a lot of kids eating glue and acting stupid I thought. I was bored cutting out shapes and singing stupid songs. The teacher talked to my parents and I ended up in first grade. I loved first grade!!! I had two friends with me... Rebecca and my friend Daniel. So I learned how to write in Portuguese and spell in Portuguese before I learned how to in English and I thought that was cool. Within the first week I could sing the Brazilian National Anthem and I did it often... in fact my dad found a video over the holidays of me standing in my underwear singing it for the camera and family back home( my sisters loved that one). Brazil was home for me. I really didn't think about the U.S. except for family but I didn't miss all of them. My first Halloween in Brazil marked my first visit to the emergency room because I was playing around the swingset with friends when I fell and someone swinging caught my head and there was a nail hanging underneath which split me wide open. I remember getting up and feeling the warm blood on my hands and then it came pouring over my face. Looking back now it was like a scene out of the old horror movie Carrie! My parents and friends were inside having a Halloween party and here I came walking through the door screaming with blood flowing down my face. I got my first set of stitches that day and the lady doing it said it would feel like little ants on my head... she lied!!!! Stitches actually didn't bother me all that much... I was back to playing in no time. That same year I had my first root cannal and I remember the dentist who was my neighbor across the street pulling out a needle to numb my mouth and I refused it.... I pitched such a fit that my mom and he agreed to doing it without numbing my mouth. I got my way but it hurt really, really, really bad. I used to swim behind his house with his kids and try to do every daredevil trick I could. I tried a frontwards flip and cut my head open again.... My first birthday there I turned 5 and I thought I ruled the world. Before I knew it our time in Campinas was over and we packed up and moved on down to southern Brazil to a place called Cascavel which in English means rattlesnake. Sounded like an adventure to me and it proved to be some of the best days of my lifebut it was there that I also met another side of darkness....

Meet Virginia

Dear Diary,

Let me continue where I left off yesterday. So my family moved up to Virginia for a few weeks of learning how to deal with a new culture and I guess strategy and all that blah blah stuff. I liked Virginia... It was like vacation bible school but cooler! I was always around people and I guess I have always been the hyper kid that got quite a bit of attention which doesn't make a lot of sense to me because I was always nervous about first meeting someone but then I guess I get comfortable quickly. Miami Vice was big back then... I mean BIG!!! I had my favorite Hawaiian style shirt that I wore as much as possible so I could look like Don Johnson... I didn't really pay much attention to the dreams that I was having then or I guess I didn't really know what they were about but I knew I felt dirty when I would wake up. There was a young woman who was there for training to go to Brazil as a journeyman to teach missionary kids and she became my nanny. I fell in love with her immediately!!! I loved it when my parents had to go to meetings and she would watch me... geez... I got started early. Of course, the feeling I so deeply felt for my older mistress was not mutual so I found a girl more age appropriate.... She was my best friend and just so happened to be moving to Brazil exactly when I was so it was perfect. She was my first kiss.... I know... 4 years old right! There was one encounter there that wasn't so good.... brought back all of the fear I had left back in MS... but this time it wasn't family. Once again... I do not remember what was going on outside of her room but I do know my sisters and parents were out with the rest of the group that was getting together that evening. She was an MK(missionsary kid) but she was older than me. I remember she locked and I wondered why.... hmmm.... the shame was overwhelming and later when her brother knocked on the door and she unlocked it instead of walking in to freedom it felt like the doors of a prison were being closed on my 4 year old heart. What do you do? I didn't know.... Was this normal? I have done something wrong!!! Those were the thoughts swimming around in my head. Soon MLC was over and we were going back to my grandparents to pack and get ready for Brazil.... Yes!!! Brazil would be my escape.....

When Innocence Died

Dear Diary,

 It's funny how I can't remember how I got there or how I left but everything else seems like it happened yesterday. The pain and nausea still rushes my body as a wave crashing upon a statue made of sand. I can see the old rope swing that I could only climb up about 5 feet and I can see the path through the kudzu that I always thought was Poison Ivy so I would run through it. There was the rusty abandoned chicken coup that used to be our war prison when we played Cowboys and Indians. Oh the simple life of a 4 year old... He was 18 I think or maybe older.... I know that this time my journey into the magical woods behind my Aunts house was different. I ran down the kudzu path and walked out with my head lowered in shame and for the first time Poison Ivy didn't seem to bother me. Something broke inside of me that day. I felt ashamed and dirty. For the first time in my life I didn't feel safe. I didn't tell a soul because I was told that I did something bad and i would be in trouble but the scariest part was the threat of being harmed. Life continued and I stood still. Later on I visited the house again and this time I was spending the night. I remember being so scared and my breath speeding up so fast it felt like i couldn't get a good breath. During the day I was surrounded by drugs because my uncle had been selling... He later died from a heart attack alone in the bathroom. That night I was sent to sleep in my cousin's room. That night I don't remember as well... i guess blocked out most of it... i just remember crying and asking to go back to my parents because I had a stomach ache. At least that's what I told my Aunt and she said to wait until the morning. The next morning I was silent as we drove back to my Grandma's house and i was silent about all that happened for a while to come. I think it's weird how my mind could block out some of the events that took place but my heart still feels the pain. Then came the day we moved to Virginia so my parents could go to Missionary Learning Center because they felt God calling them to Brazil. Ah.... this was my first escape.......

Where Everything Starts

Dear Diary,

I guess I should start at the beginning. I was born in Mormon country on April 21st 1981. My mom tells me it was freezing outside and that her doctor was out of town when she went in to labor but I was coming none the less. I would have been born in the car if I was facing the wrong direction coming out feet first. Guess I really haven't changed on my approach of life. I was a healthy baby. A chunky monkey one might say. We moved to South Dakota when I was about 1 year old and stayed there until I was 3 I think. I can remember some of my days in the frozen hell of S.D. I remember making snow cream and looking out the window waiting for my sister Sara to round the corner at any moment from school. I also remember bouncing around on the couch while my mom was bringing in groceries from outside and for some reason feeling the need to jump and slam the door at which point I heard my mom scream because her fingers were caught in the act. That was the first time I hurt her and I felt physically sick knowing I had... Funny how I still think of that sometimes and regret ever doing that. Moving right along... When I was 3 we moved to Basfield, Mississippi, where my dad was a pastor at a local church. I have more memories there. I had an invisible friend named Jason and a dog named Pete whom I loved. Our family friend we called Doc was my hero and I practically lived at his house watching Indiana Jones and eating Raisin Brand cereal. I was big in to coffee and climbed up on a counter top one morning at about 4am and made a pot myself at which point my mom decided to cut me off. I was normal and doing normal things... you know the youngest of the family with 2 older sisters who lived to embarass me by dressing me up in their old dresses and parading around the neighborhood showing me off and feeding me mud pies. Life was good!!! There was the creepy neighbor who everyone thought was a serial killer and I dared not walk by his house alone. My grandparents lived in Pontotoc, Mississippi, which was only a couple of hours away so it was good. I would go visit them sometimes. I loved going to Pontotoc to see mamaw and papaw and of course Grandma and my grandpa whom we called Pupu. My parents always warned me about going to see a certain aunt and to watch out for a certain cousin. I was 4 though... they tell me now that they told my grandma not to let me stay at this cousins house... but she let me go a couple of times. Then came the day my life would be changed forever......