Kriminell . org

Asi es la vida esse

This is the story  my eldest son tells about growing up in a family environment with heavy violence, illicit drugs and criminal people, all around him. When I first read it I was shaken, I was chocked and I whished, for the first time in my life, I could change history. But I cant, hopefully this story can help someone change their way of behaviors. The story starts in the mid 70s, in Sweden.

Kronoparken, in the newly built estate area. The red house blocks were a poor attempt to improve the image of this suburb. There were some “normal” people living there but the image and reputation is made by the people that are seen and heard. Alcoholics, junkies, thieves, robbers, drug dealers, murderers and a lot of other incompetent parents. We lived in house number 17. I smoked a cigg first time when I was about 4ish, I didn’t like it and I think that is why I don’t smoke tobacco today. I was always showing interest in cigarettes so my mum said do you want to smoke? Smoke then, here. She showed me what to do. I thought I was going to die so I lost interest in cigarettes. I don’t know, what else do you learn from having parents and family socialising with members from all these excentric professions? How to make a good pipe with nicely crumbled hash and the right amount of tobacco? How to forge a identity card? That your mum is getting enough sex? Or when she is about to get a good beating? How to hide drugs and take drugs, where to buy it, whos got it and how much does it cost? Or that the police and social service is not on your side, ever? I think being able to compartmentalize feelings of terror and shame, was one of the biggest lessons to learn as a pre school child.

Those Hippies, just don’t want to stop partying. Having kids doesn’t change anything. But the party is only a good experience for so long. When the drug and alcohol consumption continues, while a “boyfriend” isn’t let in one night and in rage, standing outside the kitchen, smashing the windows in with his hands. The Kid is crying and screaming with fear, knowing that if this man manages to get in, his mum will not recover for a long time. Again, and yet again the kid have to go to the shop, post office, or where ever, with his mum being Blue in the face. All events like this do not lead to a change in lifestyle. It only leads to learning how to swallow it and face the same people and similar situations over and over again.

We only lived in that flat for 2 or 3 years. But during that time our family established it self in this place as People that have/can get the drugs, and where there were always something going on. If I look back now thinking about it, if I was a neighbour to these people, I know what I would think. Fucking space wasters, get a job and that the social service should take their kids.

My sister was apprehended by social services before I was born, she is 9 years older than me. Someone found a syringe outside our door and reported it. She had to move to a foster home and I didn’t see her much. I missed her a lot. We don’t have much contact but I always feel close to her when I meet her. I feel like she doesn’t see me as a family member and that she sees me as part of the family that abandoned her. I wish it wasn’t like that and I think I tried to make efforts with her but it’s a one-way thing so I feel like im beginning to give up a bit. But people always feel more important than they are. Events that happen in our life’s mean fuck all to other people. Only the people intimately involved in ones life might be affected and or concerned or involved. But if your not that tight linked then you can live or die doesn’t matter. It seem like a harsh comment and emotionally incorrect and something that one wouldn’t agree on but realistically from an ego point of view, you would like to have more of an impact on other people in good and bad ways. Think about it with your own people that you call family/friends when was the last time they visited you, rang you, did something good for you just cos they cared or wanted to show how much they care about you. There is usually one or 2 that meet the standards and bless them but most people suck! The ones that don’t, love them the rest love them too and don’t let it get to you. Now when was the last time you called, visited or did something for someone except your best friend or the person you want to fuck! (Yes ! it wasn’t a “?” it was a statement) Before her, my sister that is, my mum was pregnant with a son, but he died during birth. I don’t know why. It makes me sad thinking about that I could have had a sister and a brother while growing up taking care of me. But I did it my self I guess. I don’t know the details of the life my mum had then and what happened. Only that she lost a lot of blood and they managed to save her but not the baby. Or perhaps these stories Im telling you now are just fabrications and lies as so many other things are, anyway its what I was led to believe happened to my siblings but maybe the reality is a lot worse. Its already quite bad so I cant see why the story actually should be any more positive in its nature.

To be continued:

author, the eldest son of former criminal father