Confronting the Past

This will not be an easy thing to write but I feel that it has to be done. For 17 years I have been living this nightmare and the consequences were too much for me to bear. When I was 12 years old, I was sexually assaulted by my older cousin-who we all referred to as Beebo-on several occasions. The incidents had actually happened for a couple years but it stopped when I was 12 because my grandparents walked in on the final assault.

Rage and violence ensued. My grandfather threw my older cousin down the stairs, rushed down and proceeded to deliver a beating to him, the likes of which I haven’t seen replicated. My grandmother turned to me and started berating me and calling me a faggot. As if I had asked for it. Imagine what that does to a child at that age. There was a police report filed yet I only gave one statement to a detective assigned to the case.

I never saw the inside of a courtroom during this entire episode. I was not able to find out the consequences of my cousin’s actions until all was said and done. I was hoping he would go to jail for a long time. I was sadly mistaken. He went to a juvenile detention facility for a year or two then was released to a type of halfway house. Justice was not really served during that time of my life.

My grandparents decided that I was unfocused and that a shrink would be the answer.  I had been seeing a psychiatrist from the age of 7 until I graduated high school at 17; however, during the time of this fiasco, it was decided that I needed to visit the shrink more often. Nothing this guy could say or do had any real effect on me except when it came time for him to dole out the Ritalin and other assorted mind numbing drugs.

It goes without saying that my grandparent’s went overboard. They constantly made me feel like I was the villain and that Beebo was the real victim. Beebo and his little brother were the favorites in the family. My younger brother and I were viewed as an inconvenience because our parents decided to they couldn’t raise us anymore, so my grandparents grudgingly decided to step in and steer the ship.

I cannot say with any sense of certainty that I’ll ever forgive Beebo. I don’t think I ever will. On that same note, could I ever forgive my grandparents for the emotional torture they put me through? Could I ever forgive them for taking the easy way out and letting a bottle of pills take care of my ADHD? What about the antidepressants I ended up taking? I cannot promise anything. I never know what the future holds and I am inclined to believe that I may never forgive them, no matter how smooth the waves are in our current relationship.

 

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Fatherhood

 

  “Struggle is the father of all things. It is not by the principles of humanity that man lives or is able to preserve himself above the animal world, but solely by means of the most brutal struggle.”-Adolf Hitler

What is fatherhood? To many, it’s a position in life that can never be replicated. For others, like the deadbeat, the parasite or the worthless, it is a burden. Personally, I have always viewed fatherhood as a gift in disguise. Is it easy? No. On the contrary, it is very challenging at times but the fruits of your labor can be seen in how your child(ren) carry themselves later in life. Their morals and life choices will reflect how you as a father have stood up as head of the household and taken the charge of your duties. This is not to say that we do this alone. We must always give credit to the mothers of our children. They help to nurture and guide the children as much as we do. We cannot expect children to not know the scent of motherhood while boasting the aromas of fatherhood.

We must be willing to fight for the well-being of our progeny. Failure to tackle this responsibility shows weakness and ineptness. If we cannot fight for our own children, who will? A Zionist occupied government agency? A degenerate down the street? I would much rather die knowing my children are well cared for down the road than to live and see them taken away and mentally morphed by a degenerate society that advocates homosexuality, pedophilia, transgender agendas, bar hopping, prostitution, gluttony, and many more despicable crimes against humanity.

I am of the opinion that imparting wisdom is one of, if not the greatest gift we can pass to our children. My parents were never around for my brother and I. Our grandparents grudgingly took us in but imparted blue collar wisdom to the two of us. Sometimes it was beaten into us, quite literally. There were times when my grandparents would refer to us as niggers. Our parents were so deadbeat and strung out on drugs, my grandparents used that as motivation for us to not be degenerates. A tad bit cruel? Indeed. I still have scars on my rear end from the leather strap my grandfather would use on me for misbehaving.

If I can set aside the physical and psychological trauma for a moment, my grandfather has always said that being father is the greatest gift from God. Obviously, we are of different faiths and I have tried repeatedly to save him from this Jewish construct, but to no avail…yet. Still, we look to the gods and goddesses and at many times, our ancestors for knowledge and advice. There are even times when I gather the runes to consult them. The ways of our European ancestors should never be rebuked. If we can find the power and the willingness to speak out against ZOG and the degeneracy that unfolds, why can’t we be as open about our children’s well-being?

I close with a brief statement. We cannot allow a world where our sons and daughters can be easily led astray by the evils of this world. Soon the time will come when we are no longer on Midgard. When that time comes, will you be content with how you’ve raised your young ones or will you be terrified that they go down a path of no return?