The Gnawing Nomad

From the Gnawing Nomad—

For the last nine years I have been working on this bewildering family history….bewildering and painful as it has been, I plodded along incited by chronic, wild coincidence. I became the biographer of my parents and our family. Things have not been easy for many years as the template of mental illness, family abuse and dysfunction kept its roots, bolts, screws, and toothed iron collars firmly in place. I come from or more like; spit forth from a long line of schizophrenics, mental illness, alcoholism and just plain granite statues….loveless connections ad infinitum…freakin’ nada.. Mother, father, brother, kids, ex-wives, grandparents, aunts and uncles, no one ever stayed anywhere and made a home of LOVE. It was always…and I mean always move here to there to here…deny and abuse and destroy who you can….and die. So my effort to get my kids back and try to build a life….raising them and being there for them with any kind of stability certainly was not in the genes….did not come natural. I had not a clue nor a template…..this coupled with my own inherited deficiencies; mercurial self loathing…that has yet to go far away…gnaws at me. Maybe…..subsiding with the tools I have developed to keep at bay; spiritual, mental, physical tools…but they never go away, they constantly gnaw on the hill of refuse of generations of sadness and pain.