IN BETWEEN DAZE.....(part 2).

You can bend but never break me
'Cause it only serves to make me
More determined to achieve my final goal
And I come back even stronger
Not a novice any longer
'Cause you've deepened the conviction in my soul

Oh yes, I am wise
But it's wisdom born of pain
Yes, I've paid the price
But look how much I gained
If I have to, I can do anything
I am strong...

The glory days of life with Matty would only last for 6 months.  In that time I became stronger and re-gained my self esteem.  I was excelling at my new job and within a few months I was promoted to shift supervisor for two nights a week and on Friday and Saturday nights taught how to operate the 'Disabled Taxi' service.

This was an incredible job.  I not only had to manage to allocate driver's jobs using the radio but also speak with some of the wonderful clients who used our service.  It made me realize that I was lucky and had no reason to complain about my circumstances.  Here I was dealing with people who couldn't walk, couldn't do any of the things I took for granted, but managed to enjoy their lives to the maximum.  The drivers and the customers soon became like family to me and even 25 years on I still remember their voices clearly.

We made great friends on the job and our house became a regular nightly stop-over for many of our co-workers.  There was hardly a night went past without 2 or 3 colleagues dropping over after our shift to smoke pot and enjoy de-stressing after a hectic and monotonous night.  It was here that I would make some of my best friends for the next 10 years.

In my free time I was enjoying the domesticity of living a normal life.  Free of Matty's bullying, free of the dramas of prostitution and basically free to just enjoy being me.  I loved the suburb we lived in, with it's quirky architecture and, at the time, almost quiet suburban feel.  Every house was unique, the streets were tree lined and full of history.  I had numerous parks to walk my dog in and finally began to feel that life was turning a corner.

It was the Spring of 1989 and two memorable incidents occurred.  The first being the 'Newcastle Earthquake'.  I recall the moment as if it were yesterday.  It was shortly after 11am and I remember asking Matty 'what is that rumbling sound? Is it a truck?'  He laughed and said something about an earthquake.  Within seconds the whole house was shaking and twisting and I was standing under the door frame clutching my dog while Matty laughed.  Being a New Zealander he was used to regular earthquakes.  I was shitting myself watching the walls and ceiling all moving in different directions.  Amazingly, although the quake centre was nearly 200km away our house actually suffered some slight structural damage - the front wall cracked and our outside toilet wall also gained a huge crack.  

More tragically,  that was only a few months before my brother in law died in a tragic accident.  This was the one who had advised me to 'do something with my life'.  He had been repairing an old car at home.  Instead of using a car jack to lift the car he had mounted the back of the car on bricks.  For whatever reason, the bricks toppled and he was pinned beneath the car.  We don't know how many hours later it was before my 5 year old niece found him crushed but still alive.  By the time the ambulance arrived he was already dead.

This affected me in a big way.  He was the one person (possibly the only person) who had ever shown any care or concern for me.  I had made him a promise and I was determined to uphold that promise.  Working for a taxi company, no matter how much better it was than being a prostitute was not going to get me anywhere.  It was a job that paid the bills but had few prospects.

2 months later and I attended the Sydney University Open Day for late enrolments.  the Uni was only about 15 minutes walk away and I had made a decision to make something of my life.  By the end of the day I had enrolled in a Bachelor of Primary Teaching.  I had completed Year 12 of high school and being a 'mature age' student there was no other qualification required.  The courses would start in March.......

The Taxi Company were absolutely wonderful in supporting me.  My Uni time-table meant that I had to change my shifts to accommodate the lectures.  As most of my taxi shifts were in the evening it required a little shuffling and leeway on the part of the company.  My Monday and Tuesday supervisor shifts were changed so I could start at 5pm and then I worked the other 3 shifts on Friday & Saturday nights finishing at 11pm.  On Sunday mornings I had to do a 7am to 3pm shift.  It was a little taxing but I was determined to better myself so the sacrifices were worth it.

The hardest thing was to return to a school environment.  Apart from my one year at Secretarial College I had no other learning experiences.  All the other students were High School graduates so I (apart from 3 other older students who dropped out at the end of the first semester) was the oldest in our group.  I quickly made some great friends who were more than happy to help me.  I have to admit that I really had no idea of what was required.  In the 10 years since I had finished High School it seemed that a lot had changed.

So I juggled Uni, work, running a house, caring for a dog, and most importantly caring for Matty.  It seemed that my whole life was non - stop.  I had Wednesday and Thursday nights free but my Uni classes didn't finish until 5pm on those days so I had to return home, walk the dog, get dinner ready for Matty and do any domestic chores required. Matty had at this stage been promoted to an executive position in the company working from 9am to 5pm.  It was a role he was made for - being the Disciplinary Manager and Complaints Manager for taxi drivers who had been found to be at fault in customer dealings.

While Matty had been excelling in his new found career he was at his best.  He was in a higher position than me and took every opportunity to remind me of it.  Often he would take it upon himself to personally chastise me in the 'Radio Room' over any little error I had made during my shifts.  This was until I complained to the CEO of the company and asked why Matty was performing the role of my supervisor.  Naturally Matty was not happy and when I returned home from my shift he was waiting for me.  A few quick punches to the stomach satisfied him.

At other times he would leave the office at 5pm and make a big show of coming over to me and kissing me goodbye before he left.  When his mother died a few months later he returned to New Zealand to attend her funeral.  When he returned he spent some of his inheritance money to buy me a 'surprise' present.  A motor scooter so that I could travel to Uni and work more easily - avoiding the long walks to lectures and having to rely on public transport to get me to and from work.

By the end of the first semester ( I was positive he didn't think I would make it beyond that) his tactics changed.  Suddenly he was aware that I was succeeding without him.  I was getting above average grades at Uni and my abilities at the Taxi Company were recognized by the top brass.  I held the record for being able to complete a booking in the fastest recorded time and I was constantly getting praise from my 'disabled' clients which were directed at the management.

During my second semester he started dating girls from the company.  He was very cunning in the way he went about this.  My shift finished at 11pm and on many occasions as I was about to leave one of the girls would say 'I'll be coming home with you, Matty has invited me over'.  So I would be forced to bring the girl home, sit for at least an hour or so (smoking pot naturally) and then go to bed.  My room was right next to the lounge room so I was able to hear every noise.  Sometimes Matty would continue till the early hours - having slept earlier in the evening.

It was a strange situation.  On one hand Matty made it quite clear to all that he and I were an item.  On the other hand he had no hesitation in bedding half the female staff in the company while I was in my room.  None of these liaisons lasted more than a night or two but he pushed it in my face as often as he had the chance.  Then out of the blue he would decide to sleep with me.  He kept me dangling and hopeful that we really had something.  On my part I just believed that he was confused with his sexuality and that eventually he would accept that he loved me (and I believe he did) and we would live happily ever after.

Of course I should have known better.  This would be the pattern of our lives for the next 4 and a half years.  One night he invited half a dozen of our work colleagues home after our shift.  He not only insisted that I prepare food for our 'guests' but also demanded that I had his work uniform ironed for the following day.  I put on my smiling face and complied with all his wishes.  I enjoyed an hour or so with our friends and then said I had to go to bed as I had an early lecture in the morning.

2 hours later and the party was raging.  I couldn't sleep because of the music and laughter coming from the next room and eventually I went out and politely asked if they could keep it down so I could sleep.  Matty was all charm and apologies.  The noise was turned down and I had almost gotten to sleep when my bedroom door was opened.

'I'm just coming to say sorry', Matty said so all our friends could hear.  Then he closed the bedroom door and approached me with his arms open as if to embrace me. Before I could react he had one hand over my nose and mouth while he used his other hand to punch me over and over again in the chest.  When he was finished I knew enough to keep quiet.  He returned to our guests the music went up the chatting and laughter continued and I silently cried myself to sleep.

There would be many more nights like this which I learned either to endure or to react to - which was always the wrong move as then the beatings would be much worse.  I was a fool to myself, but to ashamed and too proud to admit my mistakes.  I kept thinking that eventually things would get better.  Of course they didn't it just became a never ending circle of love and violence which I could never predict.  Thankfully by the end of that year I had the opportunity to lessen my exposure to Matty although it came at the cost of 'our relationship'........

REFLECTIVE DAZE

'Until the morning sun appears
Making light of all my fears
I dry the tears I've never shown
out here on my own

But when I'm down and feeling blue
I close my eyes so I can be with you
Oh, baby, be strong for me
Baby, belong to me
Help me through
Help me need you...'

I had a dream a few nights ago.  It made me realize many things.  Why I am writing this blog, why I am still fixated with Matty, why my addictive personality would steer my life and why I am the way I am.

It wasn't a dream about Matty hitting me - something which would continue to happen for another 4 years - but more frighteningly it was a dream about the quiet, menacing promise of another beating.  The realisation that for nearly 10 years I let someone completely dominate me both mentally and physically.  The realisation that my acceptance of this life was a combination of many factors over which I had no control.

All my life I had been a 'loner'.  Being the youngest child and only boy in the family.  Growing up with my parents values which, although well intentioned, left psychological barriers which I never learnt to adjust to.  I lived my life in a conflicting world of what I wanted to do and what I thought my parents wanted me to do.

Growing up in a staunchly, old-fashioned Catholic family.  Growing up with a father who had never had a childhood.  Growing up with a mother whose values were way out of date with the times we lived in. Growing up knowing I was different and having to hide that difference as best I could.  All of these factors left mental scars on me which took me nearly 45 years to recognize.

From my father I inherited my addictive personality.  My whole childhood was spent running after my father's addictions.  First it was gem hunting, then tropical fish, then horse racing, then gardening.  Whatever hobby my father took up it consumed all his free time, all his energy, and all our spare money.  We were forced to go along with it.  Even today my father is still consumed by his hobbies...

From my mother I inherited my warped sense of loyalty.  "I made a vow until death us do part"....my sense of pride - she was always concerned with 'what will the neighbours think' and imagined that our family was a cut above our neighbours.  My childhood friendships were monitored by my mother.  No one in the neighbourhood was good enough and therefore my only chance at making friends was always done clandestinely.  On top of that I grew up in a 'straight world' where masculinity was the only way of gaining acceptance.  I quickly learned to act the part.

I never had close friends who accepted me for what I was. I grew used to either being someone I wasn't or when bullied and humiliated for being a 'faggot' I learnt to hide my shame and retreated into my private world.

The only time in my life I truly had a 'friend' was the few short years between 1982 and 1985 when I was with Billy.  We were two young boys with similar backgrounds and similar personalities.  We shared a bed, we shared our friends, our lives and we shared our most intimate hopes and fears.  Before Billy and after it would be many years until I found both the strength and loyalty of true friends with whom I could confide in.  In between were just a bunch of people who came and went.  Our only real connections were prostitution and drugs.

 There are many things I have neglected to mention in previous journals.  Not because I am ashamed but because there is only so much you can write about in one go.  But many of these little incidents partly justify my loyalty to Matty and my staying with him to the end - no matter how bad things got, and believe me, they would get worse over the ensuing few years we had left together.

When I was 15, I wagged school sport one afternoon and went to my cousin's house.  He hadn't been at school for the day so I figured he was at home.  At the time he was living with his father and another elderly man in the house where, coincidently,  my first childhood friend had lived.  The 'lodger' let me in and told me my cousin wasn't home but I could wait.  He was getting ready to go to work his night shift and left me waiting in my cousins bedroom.  And yes, when he came out of the shower he forcefully raped me and left me stunned and ashamed. He told me that if I said anything that he would tell my parents I had wagged school - I would have been caned at school and my father would have taken his belt to me.  It was less painful to remain silent.

  Weeks later I got my revenge by going back and using the 'key under the mat' to let myself in and steal over $100 from the man's room.  It wasn't until 2004 when I met up with my cousin after almost 40 years that not only did I find out that my cousin had taken the blame for the theft but also that he had spent nearly two years subjected to this man's depravity while his own father was either at work or too drunk to see what was happening.


In my first months of 'running away from home' I had spent nights on the street.  Dossed down in filthy squats with heroin addicts, or sleeping with 'dirty old men' who were Social Workers during the day and preyed upon their young, vulnerable  clients in the evenings.  I had slept in boarding houses where the filth and cockroaches were so bad that I chose to live in a brothel rather than face another night in such disgusting premises.

I had seen, and taken part in, dumping overdosed prostitutes out of windows and into back lanes so the parlour would not have to deal with the repercussions. I had stood in a doctor's surgery holding the stab wound of a young boy together while the doctor stitched it up after he had been knifed by another drug crazed boy at the hostel where he was living - after the stitching I had promptly fainted in the bathroom of the surgery.

I had listened to the tragic stories of dozens of young boys and girls whose childhoods made mine seem like the Brady Bunch.  I had seen and done more than most people could ever imagine.

Yet in the years I was with Matty I lost all sense of the strong, individual that I had become.  My drug habit, which was originally recreational became a strong psychological dependence in which I could hide my fears and (real or imagined) failings from the world.  I didn't talk to anyone about my desperate circumstances.  I got stoned, I took speed or cocaine, I walked my dog and I kept my terrifying reality to myself.

I stayed with him out of a warped sense of pride, loyalty and my own fear of losing my self esteem and losing the domestic harmony I pretended to the world I had.  I was terrified of losing my semi - independence , ending up back in the world of the half-dead, losing my dog, losing face.  I had the most beautiful boy in the world and he had me.  Right down to his dying day he had me where he wanted me.

That's not to say that I didn't realize this.  I would take steps to re-gain my independence, to re-gain my sense of self worth and to make something out of my life.  The road would be harder than I imagined, the sacrifices often humiliating, the end tragically pathetic.  But I did make it, or so I thought.