A Pivotal Point in a Teenage Life
Or How Does Getting Your Nose Broke Aged 14 Change Your Life?
During the first fourteen years of my life, I had multiple surgeries. I wore leg irons on my right leg until finally, at fifteen, I was declared 'normal.' Even so, since the age of twelve, I had worked every Saturday at a gas station and car showroom, serving gas and cleaning cars. I earned one pound sterling on a Saturday, from which I saved 50 pence and spent the rest plus tips on a chicken breast, chips, and a can of Coke to watch the English soccer show, 'Match of the Day.' I was a shy, quiet child unless I knew you. I was afraid of my own shadow. Some of those issues were related to being 'different' than the other kids, but most of it was connected to my home life (That's another story.) I was used to the abuse at school and the constant name-calling; spastic, mongo, cripple, Long John Silver, and bitch. However, I always looked forward to running across the road to Manley's Fish and Chip shop on a Saturday evening. That was the day and time I felt like an average teen with a bit of cash to treat myself. But this Saturday night would change my life forever, and they never knew. Bastards.
It was coming up to nine-thirty at night. The game would be on soon. I grabbed my money and told my mom and dad I was going across the road for my Saturday night treat. After ordering my food and drink from Mr. Manley, I waited. I liked Mr. Manley; he was always good to me and talked to me like an adult. Eventually, my meal was ready; it was piping hot, just as I liked it. As I was paying, I noticed two teens outside, one my age and one a year older. The older kid was quite a bit taller and bigger than I was. I was a skinny little kid with red hair, freckles, and a club foot aided by leg irons. I felt uncomfortable that the two teens were outside by the dividing brick wall. But all I had to do was cross the road, and I'd be home. I said "thanks" and "goodnight" to Mr. Manley and left through the green framed door with large glass inserts.
As soon as I left the shop, the two teens yelled at me, "What you got, crip?" I didn't reply. I kept walking with my usual limp towards the sidewalk. The two teens got up from their sitting positions on the wall and walked toward me. The eldest teen yelled, "I said what you got, spaz?" and I kept walking. I was about to cross the road when the elder teen pulled me around, and as he did so, my food and drink fell to the ground. As I went to pick up my food, I noticed the can of Coke rolled back toward the kid. He picked it up. "It's mine now, cripple," he said. Finally, I spoke up and said, "No, it's not; it's mine. I bought it." Suddenly, he hit me in the face with the whole can. I couldn't see a thing for what seemed like forever. I felt blood pouring out of my nose and terrible pain in my nose. All I could hear was laughter from both kids as they walked down the street towards the Rolls-Royce motor-car factory. I ran across the road with tears, confused and bleeding. As I walked in, my parents asked what had happened, and I assumed my dad would go after them to teach them a lesson. He did not. That moment and the moment a minute earlier outside the shop would change my life forever. Let me explain.
It happened in a moment. I was hurt for a moment. I was bleeding in a moment. My father did nothing in a moment. I realized in a moment I was alone. In a moment, I swore that this pain and aloneness would never happen again. Ever! I became angrier than a fourteen-year-old should ever be. Never again would I be so vulnerable and open to being physically hurt. I swore to myself that if I ever was in a position where I may be hurt . . . I would hurt them first and terribly. That shy little boy moment created a monster, all alone in a fear moment. One thing I had always done was do as I said I would, even as a child. That was my nature. Once I made my mind up about anything, I always did it, usually for good reasons. Not this time; this moment in time changed my whole being forever. I swore an oath to myself. No one would ever hurt me again. From that moment on, my whole personality changed. All I had to do now was stop the pain at home, and I would never be afraid again. These two teenage bullies did me a favor, I thought. It wasn't until forty years later that I realized that moment had ruined my life. And many other people's lives too.
As a young teen, it seemed to me that violence was the only way to stop those moments from happening again and again. I certainly learned that a year or so later with my dad. So I get it now, the freedom door, the safety door, is opened by fear. Ok, sounds good to me. At long last, I was not afraid of anyone anymore. What a relief. Little did I know at such a young age the paths that moment would take me. Being a sweet, kind little kid didn't work, so maybe a long-haired biker with tattoos would work? Being well-spoken and polite didn't work, so maybe being foul-mouthed and rude would work? Being conscientious and diligent didn't work, so maybe not giving a fuck would work? I didn't know, but what I did know was that nobody could hurt me again. The rest of my life would be dictated by that moment. My relationships, employment, beliefs, and mental health deteriorated from that moment. It mattered not how educated I was or how blessed my life was; it always became a constant re-run of that moment—no trust in anyone or anything. No trust in any organization, whether good or bad. All were the same to me. At that moment, my life turned from a beautiful multiple-color world to a harsh black-and-white world. There was no room for gray in my life, gray meant pain. Gray could not be controlled.
So here we are, almost 48 years later. My life is now awesome. I am finally at rest with who I am. I have unloaded most of the things that I assumed were important in my life, which has brought me peace. I like myself finally. It seems to me that I have returned to being that 14-year-old kid once more, just older and wiser. As for the other kids, the bullies, I am sure they never knew what they did. It was a joke to them. One of them became a pillar of the local society, and we became acquaintances later in life. No mention was ever made of that moment. The other older bully? I don't know. He may have turned out well, or maybe he didn't. I know that he never saw the bottle coming as he stood pissing in the outside pub toilets years later. He had no idea who I was. He still doesn't. His only reminder was multiple stitches in his head. Am I proud? Hell no, he destroyed my innocence forever in a moment. I destroyed his scalp for a few weeks. And in doing so, I continued to destroy myself. As David Bowie would point out, "I looked at the monster under a tree and saw that the monster was me."
At last now, the monster has finally gone forever.
