October 23, 2005

• Irony upon Irony

  

  Due to the link from Featured_Grownups, my repost on Friday, October 21, 2005, of the gang rape episode
  from my Hells Angels years got many more comments than I usually
  receive.  Ironically, relatively few of them were the kind I love
  best, the ones that cry out to be answered.  A few people even
  left comments to say that the post was so painful to read that they
  couldn’t stand to read it all the way through.  One of them (and
  this is REALLY IRONIC, considering the fact that his NPD renders him
  lacking in empathy) was my Old Fart,
  Greyfox.  The irony for them is that it was only the top part of
  the story that was harrowing.  Further along, I got to the
  inspirational part, with at least one ironic laugh thrown in along the
  way.

  There’s
  a bit of irony in the fact of my having chosen that story as
  my “Worst Experience Ever.”  I had some trouble initially deciding
  how to define “worst” there.  Those who have been attentively
  reading me for any significant time know that I’m transcending the
  dualistic fallacy, learning to avoid absolutistic concepts such as
  bad/worst or good/best.  I had to decide between telling about my
  most embarrasing moment (that would have to have been crawling
  bare-assed through the window the morning after the drunken date rape incident), my most emotionally painful experience (the stillbirth of my second son and dealing with the undertaker ), my “guiltiest secret” (killing my father),
  or the most ridiculously self-destructive situation I’ve ever gotten
  myself into.  That last one was a toss-up between my first
  marriage at age fourteen (a long story I’m still
  telling — links to available episodes can be found along the right hand side on my main page.) and the entire three years that I stayed as a Stockholm
  Syndrome captive of a pathetic and sadistic outlaw biker.
  
  Except for
  my photograph of the geriatric Alaskan Hells Angel at left, 
  throwing darts at last year’s Spring Fling here in my neighborhood, and
  the Triker patch below, right, all the photos in this entry were stolen
  off the web and are only here to illustrate that there still are a few
  outlaw bikers around  Black and white art shots are the inspired
  work of  Doug Barber.  If he is half as beautiful as his work, …please, somebody, hold me back, ’cause the guy is obviously dangerous.

   The Hells Angels won.  It didn’t seem appropriate to post
  the whole ten episodes, so I just picked the outstandingly horrible
  rape segment to post.  Then, upon reflection, after I posted it
  and read some of the other Featured_Grownups
  posts, I thought of a few more experiences that would, in one way or
  another, qualify as a “worst,” including a completely avoidable car
  wreck on Doug’s sixth birthday, which I had foreseen in a dream.

  Here’s another irony:  I had been avoiding going back to revise the old
  memoirs to put in some additional details and correct a few facts as
  memories surfaced, such as the name of the bike club we started in
  Oregon.  My reasoning had been that it was more important to continue
  writing memoirs of times not yet covered.  But I was stuck on that
  front, or both of those
  fronts since the narrative has two ends as it now stands:  the
  mid-fifties and the mid-seventies.  Yesterday, I revised over half of
  the biker episodes, and have caught a new wave of enthusiasm for
  telling more stories.  Inspiration is such an odd and ineffable thing.

  Miashineon wrote:

  …I
  have not done the work you speak of in your post.  It was attempted and
  backfired.  I actually left a session and drove the wrong way down a one
  way street. This was out in Tuscon.  It scared the heck out of me. A cop
  stopped me before i hurt anyone. I never had the courage to try it
  again. I told the therapist that if my mind wanted to wall something
  off it was fine by me. She drew me a picture,a schematic about how much
  of your self walling off your past can cost you…but i was more
  interested in being functional.

  I
  have to agree with Mia on that.  One of the things that Greyfox
  and I have learned about traumatic dissociation through our shamanic
  work, is that it is always pointless and often counter-productive to
  bring back awareness of things one is not ready to process and
  transcend.  People vary in their traumatic response to
  events.  Simple criticism or rejection can be as wounding to some
  of us as torture is to others.  Therapists, and shamans, need to
  be very sensitive to their clients’ idiosyncracies before trying to
  “help”.

  On the other hand…

  Reading this is like reliving my past trauma…
  which is very similar, except for the gang part, and the bikers, but
  the torture and sadistic mind games are very familiar. And what helped
  me was exactly what you did, gettting it down in front of me to read,
  experience it not as a vivid memory, but as a healing process to
  understand what really happened, and who’s fault it is. My family is
  very screwed, and understanding much of my family history, and their
  sexual issues, helps me understand why some of them took it out on me,
  and how to heal my mind and emotions.

  Although I will admit I still have resounding issues with men,
  relationships, and trust issues, that I am not sure how to battle
  through… I suppose with time comes wisdom, or I really have to work
  on my issues, which seems too painful at times to even face. Feeling
  like it’s ok to blame someone or something else doesn’t seem solid
  enough to me… which is a problem to deal with all in itself.
  ~Megs
  Posted by BiblesEatBabies

  Yeah,
  once you start the process, the only way to maintain your self-esteem
  is to continue the healing with forgiveness and love.  One
  suggestion:  don’t try to “battle through” the obstacles that come
  up on the road to healing.  Take the intellectual and moral high
  road and get over them.  Fighting this crap is fighting yourself,
  and that is the same as going under.  If we don’t get over our
  pain, we will go under it.

  MyKi_Whatzerface wrote:

  I certainly hope things have changed… I just
  saw a contingent of bikers riding for charity last weekend and had a
  chance to chat w/ a couple female riders (mamas?) in the ladies room of
  a restaurant near where the ride took place.

  had I read your account first, I’m sure i would have regarded them
  through different eyes– or at least wondered if they were wearing a
  property patch or something…

  Never was there a time when all “bikers” were outlaws.  The
  “One-Percenter” title of which Hells Angels and their affiliated clubs
  are so proud, came from a newspaper article that decried how the “evil
  one percent” of motorcycle riders were giving them all a bad
  name.  In some parts of the outlaw biker world, things have gotten
  rougher and more chaotic, with murders, disappearances, and open
  warfare between rival clubs.  Crack cocaine and meth have had a
  lot to do with that.  When I was in that scene the Northern
  California Hells Angels were selling amphetamines, but looked down on
  anyone who used them.

  “In both Canada, where the Angels have waged a
  four-year battle with the Rock Machine gang, and in Scandinavia, where
  the foe is the familiar Bandidos, the fighting has been murderous and
  highly destructive.

  In
  Quebec alone, police say, the war between the Angels and the Rock
  Machine has resulted in 102 killings and 118 attempted murders.

  In
  August, Canada’s Criminal Intelligence Service reported that the 249
  known member of the Hells Angels are responsible for extensive drug
  smuggling and frequent use of violence.

  ‘(They) remain a national priority for law enforcement in Canada,’ the agency said.

  In
  Denmark, Sweden and Norway, the two sides deployed rocket-propelled
  anti-tank grenades and AK-47 assault rifles in their battles.

  All told, the wars there have claimed scores of lives and left hundreds wounded, authorities say.”
  msnbc

  One of the most gratifying things for me about posting my biker story
  in 2002 was a series of emails I received from a woman whose sister had
  been ripped off for a mama by Gypsy Jokers in the Pacific
  Northwest.  She found my site through a Google search and wrote to
  me hoping I had seen or heard of her sister, but my association with
  bikers ended long before hers began.  In my turn I did some web
  searching, sent out a few emails and tried to hook the concerned sister
  up with reporters and cops who might help her.  I heard back from
  her a few months later.  She found her sister.  She was
  scarred, addicted and looked older than her years, but was alive and
  the family was glad to have reached her.  I keep hoping I’ll hear
  from them again.

  Biker gangs share these characteristics:

  • They show off their colours in public.
  • Biker gangs use force and violence to survive and grow. Intimidation, arms and explosives are their weapons of choice.
  • The organizations have a hierarchical structure. Committing
    crimes is left to new recruits while those higher up reap the rewards.
  • The hierarchical structure allows the leaders to operate
    with impunity while flaunting their image of power to attract recruits
    and draw them into crime.
  • It is difficult for law-enforcement agencies to infiltrate
    these organizations because becoming a member involves committing
    crimes.

  CBC News

  “HOLY CRAP!!!!!!
  …I understand
  about not taking things personally, I really do…..but the pain, and
  the effects on every other area of your life—every other interaction
  with EVERYONE… EVERYWHERE… do you feel it doesn’t have effects
  everywhere… do you feel healing is possible, and you are healed? Or
  do you feel more that you’ve incorporated these experiences into the
  person who is YOU?  I wonder because I’ve been thinking a lot about
  “overcoming” and have decided there is a big difference for ME
  personally in “overcoming” and “healing” —not sure healing will ever
  come, but overcoming (for me) is easier.”
   Posted by ilsurvive

  I’d probably need to talk to Jennifer/Jamie for a while to understand
  how “overcoming” differs from “healing” for her.  Semantics is a
  bitch.

  
  I agree with Nietzsche that whatever doesn’t destroy us strengthens
  us.  In that way, of course all the stupid and “unfortunate” shit
  I walked into in this shitstorm of a life of mine has made me one tough
  cookie, strong, durable and a whole lot wiser than when I began. 
  That’s one of those inescapable effects of my experiences.  For
  me, just surviving the trauma was “overcoming,” just getting through it
  to the point where I could go on with life without needing to be in
  denial about it or to soak myself in booze or dope to get through my
  days.  Healing is what happened when I forgave the assholes (and I
  must count myself among the assholes that got me into everything I’ve
  had to crawl out of) and let go of the injury and pain.

  
  pyramidtermite wrote:

  i’ve always wondered what goes through the minds of
  people like your rapist and his pals … do they really think that they
  can go through life being invunerable to anything that anyone might
  choose to do to them? … or are they just fronting their way through
  life, thinking that the best defence is a good offence? … or don’t
  they really think about it much at all?

  i wonder what they think
  about themselves now and the things they did … even if karma didn’t
  catch up to them … i’m not sure i’d want to be 50 or 60 something
  with the knowledge that i was a bad actor earlier in my life … i
  wonder if they ever look back and think, “what the hell was i doing?”

  but
  i guess some kind of degree of honesty would be necessary to even ask
  that question … as usual, i’ve got nothing but questions and no
  answers … but i’m glad you have the presence of spirit and knowledge
  to look at these experiences without getting frazzled or taking it out
  on yourself … or others.

  Their “invulnerability” (for most of the outlaws I knew) only came as a
  result of their banding together — “safety in numbers”, the bravado of
  the mob.   A few were truly courageous and outrageous even
  when on their own, but most of them kept to the pack because it made
  them feel big and tough.  Obviously, they had some neurotic need
  for that.

  Few
  of them were voluntarily forthcoming about their inner feelings, but I
  was around often enough at times when their inhibitions were loosened
  with drugs to learn a lot — and my access to their unguarded moments
  was increased by my often being in the garage or workshop doing
  mechanical work, where few other women ever ventured.  Many of
  them had mother-issues:  abandonment or abuse.  Some of them
  were tough-talking and would rag on women around their brothers but
  treated their women okay outside the group.  In general, I judged
  their excessive need to dominate women as being some form of
  compensatory behavior to offset their own feelings of inadequacy or
  inferiority.

  What they think about themselves now… who knows?.  Most of them
  were short on introspection to begin with and did the best they could
  through drugs and their outlaw ethos to stay ignorant of their own
  inner drives and motivations.  Few of the ones I knew over a
  quarter of a century ago are still alive and of those who are many are
  incarcerated.  I now live just a mile from the Alaska Hells Angels
  clubhouse.  Some of them have friends among some of my
  friends.  They are the security force (Karma Kontrol) at the
  Talkeetna Bluegrass Festival where I had a booth doing psychic readings
  for many years.  In other words, I see them socially
  sometimes.  They are mostly old guys, some growing frail and
  feeble.  Somehow, though, they still manage to maintain the
  illusion of their own superiority.  I suspect that staying loaded
  all the time makes that easier for them.

  (mostly for MyKi‘s
  information) The woman in Doug Barber’s shot of Greek Pete here is
  identified as “mama Angie,” but it’s hard to say for sure whether she
  is really the property of the club, because “biker mama” is a
  designation that doesn’t always mean what it meant in the 1960s.

  VaporousVenom asked:

  Do you still have the ‘property patch’.. you dont let anyone call you property now, do you?

  Oh, Hell no, on both of those.  The
  Oregon Black Ravens Property patches were retired when the Free Souls
  MC was formed.  I burned mine.

  Even the dog knows that I’m the alpha animal in this pack.  Twenty
  years or so ago, a windstorm at the Alaska State Fair blew a little
  wall-hanging thing to me and it still hangs in here.  It’s a
  willow-twig hoop with a piece of leather laced into it, that says,
  “Around this camp there is only one Chief.  The rest are all
  Indians.”  My ex-, Doug’s dad Charley, always said that he was the
  mule and I was the driver.  I learned a lot from my biker
  experience.

  I feel I must comment on this comment, even though I can’t find a way to do it in a constructive and loving manner:

  “Sometimes there is just not enough Hate and Death Magick on the World… 
  *wishes bad things on many (too) many bad and abandoned souls*”

  Posted DaemAeon

  BULLSHIT!  There’s plenty, way more than is healthy.  We don’t need yours added to all the rest.

  I have to stop somewhere, even though as I have been writing this more
  comments have been coming in that I could respond to.  Just one
  more and then I’ll quit and post this.

  Jamie/Jennifer (ilsurvive) came back for a second round:

  …I’d love to say that I’ve healed, but I see
  evidance that it isn’t the case all around me.  Pushing away, both
  physically and emotionally from those closest to me is my biggest area
  of trouble, and something I feel powerless to control.  I mean, as soon
  as I start thinking about, writing about, or dealing at all with trauma
  I subconsciously seem to start the pushing.  When I am in this state
  the slightest touch to my body–even something so simple as a touch on
  my shoulder causes me to flee, and I find myself constantly on guard,
  watching and making sure that nobody touches me.  Sounds crazy, eh? 
  It’s a big problem though, really and causes big problems in my
  relationships as I’m sure you could imagine.  A hug to me feels like I
  am being suffocated and sitting there and tolerating it is almost
  impossible.  Eeek!

  That you are a B-Mom also fascinated me.  I look forward to hearing
  more about that in the future.  I am so sorry about your oldest.  What
  happened?  And your youngest….do you and she keep in touch? 
  Hmmm…in SOME ways…ONLY in financial ways I’d say my life was more
  advantageous with my adoptive parents, also.  However, I think nothing
  is more advantageous than growing up with your true family
  (emotionally)…if that makes sense!?

  “Crazy,” isn’t the word I’d use for your
  aversion to being touched.  It is a normal response to abuse, just
  as “normal” as the way that many sexually-abused children develop
  seductive behaviors.  Being normal doesn’t mean it’s healthy, but
  you’ll have a better chance of transcending it if you will accept it as
  normal and let yourself off that “crazy” hook.  That you are aware
  of it is a healthy sign. 

  We are all different, so I can’t say what would work for you.  One
  of the big advantages I had was loving parents and a relatively
  non-abused childhood.  Even so, in my case self-healing of the
  guilt over “killing” my father and “abandoning” my kids, and the trauma
  that started with my first marriage in my teens, demanded a lot of
  courage and acceptance.  

  Group therapy and a shamanic “soul retrieval”  brought out the
  guilt that I had buried and denied.  I had to accept and forgive
  myself.   Hearing someone at a Narcotics Anonymous meeting say
  that, “holding resentment is like taking poison and hoping that the
  other guy dies,”  convinced me that I had to accept and forgive
  what had been done to me.  It was difficult, especially to forgive
  the fresh emotional wounds from the addict I’m married to, but I did it
  and everyone in our family has benefited from my having the guts to
  take that chance.

  If you want to read the story of how I lost my first three kids, scroll
  down past the video module on the right side of my main page, to the memoir links and start reading at “My
  story of the ’60s…”  My elder daughter died of heart failure at
  age 29, presumably from cocaine.  We had been reunited a few years
  before then and spent some loving time together. 

  My younger daughter found me, was initially fascinated with me and
  amazed at how alike we were, right down to our handwriting.  She
  is bipolar and erratic, and has pushed me away and pulled me back
  several times.  Some Xangans knew her as angiem, but on one of her
  withdrawals she shut down her blog.   She came back later as Mystic_22, and stopped updating that one after a while.  

  With the help of Google, I was able to find my elder son, the one I had
  allowed to be taken away from me.  I was blogging here at the time
  and documented the search and the telephone reunion.  I’ll have to
  search out those entries and post some links.  He says he doesn’t
  hold anything against me, but that doesn’t ring true.  He’s
  distant, doesn’t answer my emails, didn’t invite me to his wedding, etc.

  Jamie, you and I have both gained a similar view of the practice of
  adoption, but from opposite sides of it.  I have heard so many
  stories like yours, some of them from my own biological children, that
  I cringe at the thought of adoption… but the institutional solution,
  orphanages, foster homes, and workhouses for abandoned kids, is
  worse.  Let’s “talk” about this some more some time.

  To the women reading this:

  If you don’t find the men pictured here attractive, you’re not statistically
  normal.  Most women are attracted to “bad boy” types, to dangerous
  and violent men, even if they have the good sense to avoid involvement with them.  I think it is an atavistic instinct, a leftover
  from primitive times when it was advantageous to have a dangerous and
  violent protector.  In the more enlightened age that is coming, I
  think we can learn to appreciate other “strengths” in our men.  I
  hope they can all learn to cultivate other manifestations of their
  masculinity.

  
   

  • 9:23 pm
  • 16 Comments