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Kelevra

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Blog Entries posted by Kelevra

  1. Kelevra

    Childlike Simplicity

    By Kelevra,


    Background of the Bad Dog
    Nights like tonight make me miss things
    Stupid things
    Things that no one else would miss.
    The sound of distant traffic through open windows
    Sitting on old shag carpet
    Parents sitting on a well worn yellow couch with brown and orange lines
    Grandpa showing off his and grandmas new recliners at the center of the room
    Pictures all the way back to their childhoods on all of the old oak furniture.
    The high pitched whine of a CRT tv finally getting decent signal from the antenna
    Shadows dancing on the cheap wood paneling from the hanging glass lamp dad swears he will replace as soon as he can get down to the store.
    My grandpa calling me into the kitchen to sneak me M&Ms
    The slam of the screen door as everyone walked in and out to smoke
    Grandma so proud when we would get the puzzle on wheel of fortune 
    A stiff twin bed with stale sheets with a hint of the cigarette smoke coming in through the open window
    Tomorrow that light will get changed and by months end both of my grandparents would be dead but tonight theres tomato sandwiches, pasta and meat sauce, and cheese pierogi in the kitchen. Help yourself, jeopardy is about to start.
  2. Kelevra

    Hungry

    By Kelevra,


    Background of the Bad Dog
    I must have been 6 when my mom asked me to knock on the door across the hall. Two marines answered. I dutifully repeated what my mom told me, that if they could spare a few bucks she would give them a home-cooked meal. I didn't understand the weight of what I said. I didn't understand then how life-changing their saying yes was. I didn't go to bed hungry again for 5 years.
    I was 15 when my school's football coach and SRO found drugs in my PE locker. You could tell it was my locker as one of my fellow students was nice enough to carve “FAG” into the painted steel mesh door. I sat in handcuffs in the coaches office while he told me that I would never amount to anything. I met with a public defender they negotiated a plea deal: 6 months in juvenile detention and they would drop intent to sell thus keeping me in juvenile court and not tried as an adult. I didn't go to bed hungry again for 6 months.
    I was 16 when that same football coach watched me, now clean from drugs and fed, sprint to chase and tackle someone who stole my iPod shuffle. He hauled me into his office again, only this time to congratulate me. Jail was good for me. I got clean, I gained muscle, and most of all gained confidence. The school had me banned from extracurriculars for the year, but he told me to show up at football practices anyway, off the record. He eventually convinced the principle to relax a bit and let me be the team manager. The only times I went to bed hungry were when I fell asleep studying plays or doing homework.
    I was 17 the first time I picked up a gear bag with my name on it. The team knew what I could do, we had practiced all the previous season and all summer. Now i was on the team. Walking out of that locker room though you could still see that locker, steel mesh dented where a key had run. Coach always grabbed my shoulder if he saw me staring at it, moving me along. It's rare I've gone to bed hungry since.
    For the majority of my life, I haven’t gone to bed hungry. I haven’t cowered in fear. But I haven't been able to break away from those times I was. Like in that locker room, I catch myself staring at those times, those different versions of myself. My full belly tries to forget going to bed hungry scared and alone. But it can't. So, on nights like tonight, when the bourbon was plentiful and the conversation was deep, a part of me still hungers for something. 
     
    My inner child demands it. So no, I will not feel bad about my 2 a.m. McDonald's 2 cheeseburger meal…
  3. Kelevra

    Still Here, Still Fighting

    By Kelevra,


    Background of the Bad Dog
    Well, that sucked.
    Three years ago, I decided to return to school because my body couldn't pull 00 cables through underground conduit anymore. I was tired of my body coming home in pain and living off painkillers to function. Being a construction electrician was good money, but it took a toll on my body. My first significant improvement was moving from construction to maintenance, going from high to low voltage, and doing more controls instead of panels. That first semester of school coincided with this change and was a challenge until covid hit and all our sites shut down. 
    We returned to work right after finals, and with a few months of sleeping and eating well under my belt, I was a sponge learning this new challenge. I took summer classes and managed to balance everything. And that's how the next two years went. I did my first in-person Lab for physics and met a guy from the DTD house who invited me to a summer party. The fraternity adopted me (making me an honorary) and generally made my fall semester unforgettable, taking an in-person lab for facility design.
    Then, because I do everything backward (joining a frat my junior year of college), in what was supposed to be my 2nd to last semester, I took my 2nd science: chemistry. It only offered in-person lectures and in-person labs. In all my time in college, I had never done an in-person college lecture, only labs. It was a heavy lift, especially for someone with documented memory issues and severe ADHD. But I managed. I had to turn everything that wasn't school or work off for the three weeks before finals to prepare and ensure I had everything, but I did it. 
    What I was not prepared for was the crash after finals. I hadn't just burned the candle at both ends; I'd blowtorched the candle until nothing was left. I came home from work the Tuesday after my last final, expecting to do dishes, laundry, and write. Instead, I slept on my couch until my alarm for work went off. I did the dishes on Wednesday before falling asleep on the couch. 
    I've just had no energy, no focus, no nothing until the last few days. That said, the focus is intense; I've written nine pages.
    I finished the semester with 2 A's worth six credits and 2 B's worth four credits (chem lecture and chem lab). I earned those grades when I didn't think it was possible. 
    I was never a good student until I returned to college as an adult. I never thought anyone would read what I wrote and like it. I never considered myself an intelligent person. Now I'm a subject matter expert on several systems at work, I have people bugging me for chapters of a story I'm writing, and I have an overall college GPA of 3.4. I am more than I thought I was.
    It's still a daily fight to push through, but I am still here. 
  4. Kelevra

    Memory

    By Kelevra,


    Background of the Bad Dog
    On August 24th of 2022, I went to what seemed to be a routine therapy appointment. I have complex PTSD stemming from, well, lots of places. This led to depression, anxiety, and an impossibly tricky minefield of things that would set me off for no reason. In fact, that same day, I had a panic attack, hearing metal bats hit softballs. This was new, as I had watched the summer of softball games in the employee league, and only on this day was it a problem. 
    My therapist decided to do some EMDR on this, as it's a process we had been using to work with these random triggers. EMDR therapy involves my eyes following a light back and forth while she asks questions. It works particularly well with me as my conscious effort is to follow the light so the quiet back part of my brain can speak up. 
    My sense of self was built on a foundation of holes, where missing parts of my memory were covered with straightforward explanations and a requirement, almost an obligation, not to dig too deep. However, the path I had to follow to avoid those holes and random land mines got to be too much, hence the therapy appointment on that day. 
    Something else happened that day. 
    @The Writer Xwould post the last chapter of his updated version of The Brotherhood on Nifty. I identified with Jacob for a lot of reasons. We shared a lot of the same traumas.
    When my therapist dropped the lights, and my eyes started to follow that little green dot back and forth, it was as if a dam in my brain broke. I could suddenly remember almost everything. Entire blank years were now coming forth, fresh and clear as if they hadn't been spoiled by the passage of time. 
    And they kept coming. 
    For weeks. 
    If I didn't know better, it was as if my skin had gone grey, and I had grown black wings. 
    We didn't use the EMDR machine again until February. 
    This is all to say; I don't know who I am. At least not fully. My memories are new, and so I'm still learning to cope with them. The last decade of my life, where I thought I was making "progress," was erased in a single visit. But I'm still here.
    There are days when I can't remember if I took my medications, but I can remember the smell of freshly cut grass on the football field before a game. I can remember the feel of pigskin in my hand from a catch and how I took a hit, but not if I emailed my boss. I can remember who I was, but I struggle with who I am. 
    On November 18th, I sent what would become Chapter 1 of Flamekeepers to The Writer X. He encouraged me to post it on this site. Today I submitted the 6th chapter of this story to the site. In the last four months, I have found a tiny community of people who like my stuff, a mentor who, without knowing, pushes me to do better, and a fantastic group of friends who are ok with me learning who I am. 
    So to you, denizens of this site who have welcomed me with open arms, this beer is for you. We got a bonfire just inside the tree line. Come howl at the moon with the bad dog. 
     
    -Kelev
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