This week, Johnnie Calloway bravely shares with us about the abuse he experienced at the hands of his step-mom.
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My childhood was confusing to say the least. The alcoholism
was everywhere, the varying types and degrees of abuse were daily. Living on
the edge of your seat and never knowing what was coming next was constant.
If my dad was drinking bedtime could be the worst. Sleep was
almost impossible because you needed to be totally aware of his mood, attitude
and whereabouts. I considered myself a skilled tracker, because I could tell you with
the utmost confidence where he was, if he was drinking, and his mood just by
listening to his footsteps.
We lived in a two-bedroom single wide trailer, with a long
narrow hallway. If his mood was off and he started that long journey down the
hallway, the anticipation was paralyzing. Holding my breath, pretending to be
asleep and peeking under one eyelid was survival.
My mom had long since passed away. Leaving me and my two
sisters to be with my dad. We all loved him, we were all terrified of him, and
we all hated him.
The result was being moved from family member to family member, often. But we were, with all our issues, a hand full.
THE EVENT
The court system, had yet again placed me in another home, with
my granddad, like the out of the frying pan into the fire kind of thing. My dad
and my step mom had been out drinking and swimming and came by to visit me.
They were both pretty drunk and wanted to take me with them.
Totally out of the ordinary, my granddad said sure. I was
shocked, he hated my dad with a passion and for him to give my dad his way on
anything, just did not happen. This was different.
My stepmother was drunk and dressed in a bikini and I was a
14-year-old boy with raging hormones and incredibly confused about sex.
There are certain things that we seem to intuitively know are
wrong. There are lines we just seem to know aren’t supposed to be crossed. In
my childhood, those lines were blurred and difficult to define.
When we got to my dad’s house he almost immediately passed
out. She was already drunk beyond words and just kept drinking. With my dad
passed out on the couch, she invited me to go see the chickens, there were no
chickens.
Everything in me was suspicious about what was happening. I walked
back into the house and she just followed. There was a sexual energy in the air
that was almost impossible for even a boy loaded with hormones and curiosity to
ignore.
All I had known were the things that had happened with my dad, and what I had to listen to from what went on when my sister’s door was
shut.
I felt like I was plugged into a light socket and could not
pull away, the guilt of what I was thinking was making me sick. I tried to lose
myself in the show on the TV.
After a while, she invited me to go see the garden, there was
no garden. This time she would not let me just go back in. She stopped me as I
tried to move past her, pulled me to her and kissed me while putting her tongue
in my mouth.
The physical sensation was incredible but my heart hurt. I knew if
my mom were still alive she would be disappointed. I knew if my dad woke up, I
would get a beating and so would she. I was terrified, excited and guilt ridden
all at the same time.
I wanted to run and she would not let me. She pulled her top
down and pulled me closer. Then, she pushed me to my knees and pulled her bottom
down. Once I was on my knees, she said, now kiss me there. I could not get off
my knees fast enough. I almost shouted, NO! "Okay," she laughed and took my hand
and led me into the house.
I was mortified. She never put her top back on and made only
a feeble attempt at putting her bottoms on. She had me by the hand as we walked
right past the couch where my dad was laying. The desire was there for me, but
all I could think was, "How the hell do I get out of here?"
She lay down and put me on top of her, my body was a wreck
and the fear overwhelmed me and took over. I couldn’t do as she wanted and she
laughed at me again. She tried a couple of more times and I cried. Finally, she
pushed me away with, "I am going to wake your dad up and let him finish what you
have started."
I hadn’t started anything. She woke my dad up, almost drug him
to the bedroom, and they began. I had to sit in the living room and listen.
After that, until I was well into my twenties, whenever I knew
I was going to have the opportunity to be with a woman, I made darn sure I was
too drunk to be available for sex.
I was beyond awkward with the girls in my
school. I made great friends with all of them but if it ever even started to be
something else, I would do something to destroy it and avoid the fear of being
alone with them.
Johnnie Calloway believes that all healing is an inside job.
To heal and become a better version of ourselves we must change our self-talk or inner dialogue so we start to believe it. As Johnnie says…
“If you want to change your life, you’ve got to change your mind about your life.”
To that end, Johnnie has dedicated his life’s work to helping others do this. He does this through the following passions:
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