Warning* This post mentions a topic that may be difficult for some readers. While not discussed in detail, we appreciate that reading about any reference to crimes against children may be painful. As always, if you need help, do not hesitate to reach out for it. – The Roadmap Company
I climbed the tree this morning before the sun blessed us with her rays of hope. I sat here on my perch about as twisted and lost as I could be today. Last night was a Time Machine in my head. I thought about what caused me to write the first time, and why there is an event I have never written about. I thought about the current event that has me twisted and how it’s feeding off the event I have never written about. I call this process the piranha effect. Two events feeding off of each other. Typically, the first event was never processed and the second one mirrors key factors that made the first one not easy to process. These days I write with the hope of helping you. Today, I travel back in time, hoping that writing from this perch will help me.
In the sixth grade I did something stupid, which in my opinion created a traumatic event or critical incident for myself. To me, a simple man, a critical incident is anything the brain has trouble processing. We often think a critical incident is something graphic, like horrific visual images, etc. To me, anything that causes us to lose sleep, obsess, panic, be fearful or not rational is a critical incident. I also firmly believe when this event was self-induced or within our control it’s even more traumatic. After my stupid act in the sixth grade I found myself writing about the robins in our back field. Forty-five years later I write in nature, but more about mankind and less about nature.
Many years ago, before our boys were born my bride and I were introduced to an older man. The introduction was from a person we trusted. The older man had served his country, had never married, took care of his mother, and by all visual principles was the grandpa I had always wanted. Our hearts adopted him and he became family. When our boys were born he was the next hands to hold our sons, even before our real family.
We loved him. We cared for him. We did everything a person should do for someone they love. As the years caught up with him, we needed to contact his distant family to make those final arrangements. This is where it’s hard to type. This is where I struggle. I want to piece this together, but to be honest, it’s a broken puzzle buried inside me.
As we contacted his distant family, the roots we had made with him started to pull from the earth. The pain of that moment is just as real now, as it was back then. He was not ripped from our lives with a violent force with graphic horrific images, but his roots were just as twisted as my soul feels now. Somewhere tucked away in a filing cabinet, buried under political connections, revealed the man he really was. A man who served his country, took care of his mother, held our children, and was convicted of crimes against children. The time and place I received that phone call is imprinted in my mind. There was no blood, no screams. But in my mind, it’s one of the most horrific moments in my life. The details of that moment and the pain I felt is not something I can describe.
He went into a nursing home shortly after we found out. He died a few weeks later. I never confronted him, in the fear his answers may reveal his evil intentions. My bride and I wondered if we gave him what he needed to calm his sickness, or was he just waiting for our boys to get to his preferred age. The answers still remain a mystery. He was never alone with our boys, but he held them. We trusted him, and we loved him.
Over a year ago my bride and I met a man through my retirement job. We aligned ourselves on family, the outdoors, God, and principles that seem to be eroding from our society today. We trusted him and the company that he represented. We introduced him to friends and they trusted him. His business was financial planning. We transferred over to him and the company he represented, our 30 years of savings. He complimented us on how we were raising our boys, and how important it was that I retired early so I could spend more time with them. He held the future of our boys in his hands. Our boys looked to this man as a person who cared about their future. Then one day we got a letter that something had changed.
It took a few months for the roots in that tree to break loose from the earth, but eventually the soil flew into the air and the roots cracked with a violent force. The feeling was the same one from years ago. Another self-induced critical incident that contains no horrific images, but my heart is broken.
My bride and I sat in an office yesterday with a man who is trying to clean up the mess that this other man created. This new man wants our trust that he will handle what’s left of our thirty years of savings. I sat there listening to him, seeing numbers, and trying to stay focused. But I was lost. I came into his office angry. I was confused, and then I cried in front of a complete stranger. My hope, my heart, and my soul were lost. I cried. Not for the money he took from us, but from our friends. He took more money from them. Why? When we left the man’s office I was sad, broken, and the setting sun left no hope to shine upon me.
I have written a lot about the ill intentions of man and how, here on this perch, there is very little of mankind to be felt, heard, or seen. I trust the roots of this tree to hold me, as we have all trusted others to hold us. It’s hard these days, in my opinion, to see the world with bright eyes. I know I am not alone in this opinion. It’s like we have completely lost our moral and logical compass. When we do meet people who are like minded in mind, spirit, and ethics, we gravitate towards them. We bond, we join, we laugh, and we have hope. Hope that the world is changing but we can still stand before the flag, we still bow our heads, we get paid for working, and it’s ok to talk about God.
I’m confident there is a force that digs at the roots that grounds us to our principles. I’m confident that force would love to take this tree out from under me. I’m confident that force would love to make me weak, so instead of being a man of love, I would be a man of fear and hate.
It just warmed up enough that the frogs in the creek below are singing their song. I just had two does walk down the creek with a young buck trying to catch up to them. I’m confident he was looking for a date. I know when my bride and I were in that office yesterday we were joined by two other men that I trusted. They were not there in body, but in a clear, prime example of a force that never stops trying to uproot the strengths we have.
I told a young boy that I teach karate to this week, that karate to me has very little to do with a belt or how hard you can kick. Karate is in your heart, and if properly placed there, no one can take that from you. I said, “In my heart, I’m a Marine. And no one will ever take that from me”. We routinely tell our karate students that positive in, is positive out. We also tell them that love always wins. I told the young student that in life, sooner or later, someone will try and take from your core what makes you strong. Don’t let them.
Trusting others is a hard task, and it appears these days it’s even harder. I’ve always known the event with the first man in this story was not stored properly, but I’m not sure where to store it. It’s clear the events of the first and second man feed off each other. So where do we properly store the mistrust of others? Is it stored with the horrific sudden events that unearth our roots? Do we store the mistrust of others with the unpredictable nature of life? Or is it not to be stored, but accepted as the ill intentions of man guided by a force that would love to unearth our tree of trust?
The Sun is struggling today to cast her rays of hope on me, but that’s ok. My soul is less twisted now and I do not feel as lost. Just as deer cautiously proceed through the woods after smelling a human, I’m in their footsteps now. But I will never stop moving forward. It’s not easy to admit that someone gained your trust with ill intentions. In my opinion it ranks right up there with critical incidents that we think of, because it kills our hope in each other.
I climbed this tree this morning and the soil was weak around it. I was just as weak. But now as the soil is strong and firm, I am also strong. As I read these words that I typed between the tears from my eyes, I realized wherever I stored the event of the man who held our children, it clearly was not properly stored. I think some events have no business being stored, but they need to be told. They need to be told so others can see they are not alone. From this perch, I know part of healing is relating with others the pain we feel. My hope is this; this story that pains me to tell will help others to understand that when we hide our heart, that evil force only wins. I do not have the answers to heal a broken heart, or the broken trust of another. I do know that no one, or no force will take from me my ability and drive to help others. In order to help others, at some point we have to trust each other. We do not give enough credit to the psychological and emotional damage caused by those who break our trust. As a human race, it’s trust and hope that grow the roots that hold us.
I may never know the “why” of these events, but all it did was make me realize hope is a strong-ass root, and no one will ever take my hope in mankind.
If you feel encouraged, moved, or have been given hope by this story, please share it with others it may help. We also greatly appreciate your feedback.
Josey is a retired law enforcement professional, and bomb and arson investigator with over 30 years experience in the field. He is educated in psychology and multiple aspects of Critical Incident Stress Management, and has experience as both a CISM peer support provider and instructor.
For more of Josey’s stories with Dr Jeffrey Mitchell, got to https://crucialmoments.org/
To read more of Josey’s blog stories, https://theroadmapcompany.com/blog/
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