A Man Named Dave

still scared, but no longer terrified. I can live with that. In an odd sense, being on the constant mental defensive is a comfort zone of its own. But one day I would like to be a real person. A person who is able to let down his guard and let someone in. Before I die I would like to experience that. I want to shelve my former life’s mistakes. I would like to live in total peace, in every sense of the word.
    If I have to remain alone, I will. Above all I know not only can I survive, but I can trust myself. And I feel secure with that premise, as well as knowing I will not cause anyone else anguish.
    I still dream of a home – my home: clean and fresh and open. The scent of flowers while Pat Metheny plays on the stereo. As always, I dream. I always will. I’m trying to give up control, but it’s hard because for so long I was controlled by so many. But maybe if I surrender, I’ll find my answer. I’ll find peace.
    Maybe, one day, I’ll have a home. Then maybe one day I can come home … home to you.
     
    After replacing Marsha’s letter, I wipe away a tear, while staring outward where the swirl of water collides against the beach. I realize how far I’ve come.
    “Here’s to my husband,” my wife, who was silently sitting beside me, suddenly announces.
    “And here’s to you, princess,” I reply, wrapping my arm around Marsha’s shoulders, while an elderly couple strolls by, smiles, and nods at the newlyweds.
    Within the recesses of my heart, I know with hope, effort, and a little luck that anything is possible.
    I am living a fantastic life.

Perspectives
    Dave Pelzer
    Husband, father, author, and advocate
     
    As I enter midlife, even to this day it is difficult for me to fully understand the magnitude of what happened to me as a child. Because of the life I am able to live today, it is as if my past experiences never happened. Every one of us has situations from their past. On a daily basis all of us are faced with dilemmas. I am no different, then or now. As a child I believed with all of my heart that if I could survive my ordeal, then not only could I accomplish what I set my mind to, but anything else I would encounter had to be easier. This is why my story is not about my being a victim of child abuse, but of the indomitable human spirit within us all.
    I lived through an extraordinary experience, yet I was fortunate enough to learn from it and walk away a better person. I can’t change my past, and it does not grant me the right to use it as a crutch, nor am I destined to become a prisoner because of it. For years I have lived by the philosophy: that which does not kill you can only make you stronger. I simply had to learn to pick myself up at an earlier age.
    It seems all of my life I have been put down, taken advantage of, and at times fallen flat on my face. But, by the grace of God, I have somehow found myself being able to stand up, repair any damage, and forge ahead.
    Years ago, a dear friend once told me a great deal of people mature in their thirties. As much as I have been through in my life, I am now a believer. With every day I soak in something previously unknown to me the day before. Like any adult I carry regrets, one of which is Patsy. With time, hindsight, and maturity, no matter what others may say, I realize we were simply two different people and that she in fact applied herself to our union more than I. That is why I call Patsy my former wife rather than my “ex”. I know what it’s like to be a non-person, and I refuse to treat anyone as such. I can only pray my mistakes as a parent do not reverberate to my son. Strangely, because of my failed relationship, I have committed myself to be a better husband to Marsha, and this makes me appreciate her all the more. I am now fortunate enough to share my life with a person who truly makes me whole.
    But as I look back, I fully realize I made a fair amount of mistakes. Like many individuals who suffer from low self-esteem, I, too, allowed myself to become associated with others who mistook my kindness or generosity as a sign of weakness and attempted to exploit that for their own agenda. At the time, part of me felt as though I were a schoolboy willing to do anything just to gain acceptance so others would approve or believe in me. I never even thought about protecting my interests, or maintaining my standards I had fought so hard for – even though I had fully realized how grave my situations were – because of fear of rejection and being all