Life ended before it begins.
Some of the better moments in my life”.
I grew up the second oldest of 6 kids. Mom and dad, who never made more than $10/hr. We were always hungry but we didn’t go without, and I didn’t realize how poor we were until later on in life. To me, that’s just the way it was. I never wanted things, or asked for gifts because it just wasn’t part of my life. I remember one year in fourth grade my elementary school had a program called “Food for Thought”. You would attend an hour of after school session where you’d do extra readings and assignments. (It was BS) For each hour you attended, you’d get a credit that would go towards your food. After a week or two (I can’t remember), I went home with a large paper bag of food (right around the holidays) filled with cereals, dry snacks and oatmeal. I was so proud of myself for being able to contribute to my household. I still remember the look on my mom’s face as she opened the bag. I could tell she was so happy and it was in that moment that I realized I could provide for the family. I could come home with a bag of food every week, so i told myself! Sign me up! I went back to school the next day and told all my friends. And they made fun of me and called me a bum, poor, trailer trash. For accepting free food. Most of them were just as poor as I was, it made me feel ashamed I never went back to try to get food. I would just say they didn’t have any after school. It was also when I made the decision to never accept handouts, no matter how poor or needy I was. Flash forward to my teen years. I was so happy when I turned 13 because it meant I could start staying out. I would walk to every park i thought of all night in my hand mr down jacket and i was dressed for the summer time. I never asked my parents to take me anywhere because they were always working or too tired from working. At one point I had a part time job. Luckily it was a small town and thank god my boss knew my situation and was accommodating about my life and did all he could to make it work. My mom put up a Christmas tree (we only did it every few years) but we didn’t have any presents to put underneath. Us kids were just so excited to have a tree up we didn’t even care that there weren’t presents. One day, our better off family came over and asked where the presents were. My mom must have felt embarrassed so that night she suggested that we wrap up empty boxes to put under the tree. I was even more embarrassed to do this but it made my mom feel better so I went along with it. Come Christmas morning, it was just another day and we woke up and went about our business. Christmas was never a special day- my mom had long stopped accepting gifts from charities once my brothers and I grew up. So as we got older, Christmas slowly faded and that’s just the way it was.
Right around 15, I felt like i got married and started working full time. It was the first time in my life that I ever had that much money to myself. But I also just had a son. After everything It wasn’t much, but it was mine. The first thing I did that year was spoil my family the best i could. Come Christmas time I bought them each a shirt and wrapped them as nicely as I could. I would bring the presents over two weeks before Christmas witch was a week after my birthday. My gifts would be the only ones under the tree. They were so excited about having gifts and couldn’t wait to open them. Christmas mornings during those years was one of the happiest moments in their life not mine . The joy of watching my family open their present (usually a $5 tee shirt) made them beam with pride and almost want to cry. We never had a proper Christmas growing up so I made sure that going forward I would make sure of it. They were younger than me and didn’t start realizing how life sucked until later, so I never got gifts. I never really wanted gifts as a child and even to this day it makes me uncomfortable when people spend money on me. This is something I am still trying to work on and be more comfortable with.
Anyway...today my 1 out of 3 brothers are doing well and I have a good life, that I got right out of college. I don’t worry about not having presents or going without anymore. In fact, sometimes I feel like we all don’t respect our money and as soon as it comes in, we splurge and the money’s gone. It is something I try to be conscious of. I recently heard the phrase “poor person mentality” and that fits me to a tee. I never knew I behaved in that way and I understand that if I ever want to get out of this poor cycle I need to change my thought process on money. I’m not that poor anymore but I still feel like I am because I’m not making good money decisions.
My parents are doing better today. They still don’t make more than $10/hr each but they take the occasional vacations to go visit family. They live within their means and are generous with love. My mom she’s never had much, but she was willing to give you everything. My dad is the hardest working man I know, work keeps him occupied now that the kids are grown. He’s a quiet man and never says much except for the occasional motivational talk with us about the last beer is his always. My parents did their best with us. Like I said above, we were never starving, growing up. They fed us first above all else and we cut back in other areas. I never knew how poor we were until later in life. It was just the way we grew up- that’s all we knew? Life had always been and it was all we ever knew. We each got one pair of shoes every year for back to school and it had to last the “ENTIRE” year. As a kid, I never knew that other kids got more than one pair of shoes and I never noticed what other kids had. I thought I had a happy childhood. My family was very loving and we had a large extended family. When everyone else around you is in your boat, you don’t know any different. How could I, as a child, dream of owning a house, cars or any of it if I had never craved one? The dream wasn’t to own fancy cars or expensive or go on exotic vacations. The dream was to grow up and get a good job have a living family, and that i wouldn’t have to worry so much about my family. So we didn’t have as much as other kids but we did have a lot of love, encouragement and hope. This was some of the better parts of my life. There’s a lot of bad, some good too.
Back to the story of my life. ( STAY TUNED FOR THE CONCLUSION.)
I wake up every day with this feeling. I try to push it away, but it gets worse. It doesn’t stop. This feeling. It hurts. It stings. All the heartache, the stress…it gets to you. So if anyone thinks suicidal people are stupid, please realize that when you are holding the knife or pills like me, that it’s not easy to put them down. I can’t tell you how many times I wanted to kill myself. 100? 200? I’ve try 3 times. But all I ask, is that you understand. Depression and suicide aren’t like diseases. They don’t go away after time. They are deep depths of darkness, and loneliness. Depression is like a boulder of weight always on your back. Slowly hurting you. Day by day until you say “Enough!” And it says “No.” It doesn’t stop unless you make it. Suicide isn’t about killing yourself. It’s about starting new, a clean slate. To forget your troubles, and finally drop the boulder. Some of us took the leap. I really do envy them. Please just understand that we aren’t trying to be “selfish” or “hurtful.” We just want that boulder to stop hurting us. We just want to love,be loved live happily. I understand the feeling of hopelessness. It can so easily consume your life. I’ve suffered from depression on and off for most of my life. As a result, both mentally and physically I have struggled with suicidal attempts. Mentally and physically can both be killed with alcohol, and I tried everyday all day. It’s hard to go through life when your own brain has turned against you. Getting out of bed is a struggle. Taking a shower is a struggle. Try to have a healthy relationship, then when your having a bad day they think it’s them. They steal your feelings, and that’s all you have so you get really upset. Looking in the mirror is a struggle too. I wish I didn’t understand. Honestly, for a long time I thought that suicide was the nicest thing I could do for myself. I knew it was selfish to put my loved ones through, but at the same time it was so difficult to keep putting me through it. If i stay alive just for the well-being of others. I could easily rationalize it and say that they were better off without me. God, depression is a bitch. It has taken so much intense self-reflection and, yes, even opening up about this that’s what really helped me. For me to realize that giving myself a chance to heal was the kindest thing I could do for myself. So I guess I’m trying to say that I empathize with suicide victims. When your own mind betrays you it’s hard to get back up again. But it’s possible. But I’m here today, and I’m thankful. I owe my life two just a few people. I want to say thank you to Amanda, you have always been there no matter what. And to B what can I say you’ve been my rock, and a role model. One day I wanna be as strong as you two are. And most of all God thank you for your son, my saving Grace. To let me confess to you my sins. And letting me walk with you.
Thank you all for reading my story of Jesse Boston’s life.
I’m going to make the politically incorrect statement that the gay homosexuals running around. Has a serious problem with pedophilia, including its incarnations like hebephilia and ephebophilia. To the uninitiated, those terms refer to the predator’s favored age of prey. (Little boys).
“The Catholic Church’s” sex abuse was primarily homosexual in itself. In all of the predators were male and the majority of their victims were boys.
“The Boys Scouts of America” sex abuse revealed in 2012 was entirely all homosexual shit. Because they say, male predators were preying on male children and teens. Though male homosexuals is on like between 3-4 percent of the population, multiple reports said they commit a statistically higher rate of sexual abuse than heterosexuals.
And let’s not forget that in virtually every society in history that accepted gays,(crime) someone gets molested. The predator is an adult male and the victim is a boy. If you have a spare minute and a strong stomach, im telling you go to a “gay” website. You will see photos and photos of boys hairless boys who appear to be teens. I’m not arguing that all homosexuals are pedophiles. I am arguing, that the homosexual community is not immune to the infection of pedophilia, or what some people refer to with the neologism “minor- attraction,” which to “minor-attracted people” is just another “sexual orientation.” (And “sexual orientation” in itself is a euphemism concocted to efface the difference between rightly ordered sexual impulses that are consonant with biology and anatomy and disordered sexual impulses that result in sterility and disease because they oppose biology and anatomy). I wonder if the poor little boys whose mother sold him for 8,000 pieces of silver to evil men who used him as their sex toy will grow up to be sexually attracted to men. Oh wait, that can’t happen because the homosexual community says they’re “born that way.”
I know I don’t run around touching little kids lol.
© Jesse Boston
