Читать книгу Prison Puzzle Pieces - Dave Basham - Страница 32

Some people believe that criminals are born criminals. I don't believe that. I believe they are created. I believe we are all a product of what has happened to us in our lives. Speaking with many an inmate, things they told me about themselves, their environment, what happened to them in their lives, how they spoke, these and so many other things gave me clues as to how they became who they were and justified the things they did.

As I stated previously, I have always been extremely shy. Dysfunctionally shy. This was instilled in me by my mother. The attitudes of "don't speak until your spoken to", "you can't do that", "who in the hell do you think you are", "nobody else in our family has ever done that," "what makes you think you're better than the rest of us" rang loud and clear from her. This mentality was beaten into me really well.

My mother definitely did not believe in the phrase "Spare the rod and spoil the child." Every day she made sure I wouldn't become spoiled. We won't get into her psyche; only as to how it created who I am and how it relates to how I did my job in the prison. Sometimes I just got slapped or pulled around by my hair. I could really use some of that hair back now. Sometimes, getting beaten with things like belts, yardsticks, fly swatters and branches from weeping willow trees was my cure. Oh how I still hate weeping willow trees.

I remember really well the fly swatters that she had. They had wire handles with a plastic swatter part on it. She would swat me with them until the plastic broke off. Then she would get really angry that I broke her fly swatter. Her level of rage would go off the charts and she would continue whipping me with that wire. She was very good at making sure that no marks were left where anyone would be able to see what was going on.

I remember reading the book "Mommy Dearest." I thought, "Boy, I sure wish she had been my mom. What's this kid complaining about. She had it easy."

Other people have been abused like this and worse. Some whine and want sympathy; I feel I gained strength from this. There is little anyone can do to me or say to me that would deter me from doing what I am supposed to do. My mind stays on task and pain cannot stop me.

It was good for her to do this to me though, because as she explained it, I was a rotten little kid and she was doing it for my own good.

For my own good? Well, yes and no. I've wondered at times what I could have done in life if I had been brought up not as something to use and control, but as something to guide; something to train to be able to do anything I desired to do in this short life. I've wondered what it would be like to have the power that goes along with being a fully functional human being with a normal thought process.

But, you must use to your advantage what you get and not do the "poor me" routine that many of the incarcerated do.

In order to function in this world, I had to look at what others considered to be normal. Taking an A – B – C approach has been quite beneficial to help me blend in with normal society, as much as I can any way. But my mind also looks around corners and jumps from A to X to D to Z. Basically my mind gets me there, but provides me with many options; some better than the normal, some worse and some that make me see how the criminals mind got to where it went.