Our father was a very sick man, but besides that he was evil. He hated his father and chose to reflect the image he had of him in me, his only son. Because of that, from a very early age he attacked me viciously blaming me for everything that was wrong in his life. As time passed and I grew up, he blamed me for everything that was wrong in the world.
The stress my sisters Monica and Yolanda endured, provoked by our father’s behavior was always indirect and much lesser than the stress I suffered. Our sister Veronica was born when our parents had been married for 10 years and her life was plagued with violence from the beginning.
As I grew up and stopped being a child, as I became stronger (late in my teens) our father realized that it was risky to keep attacking me. By that time Veronica was 12 years old and she became his favorite target.
Meanwhile, Monica and Yolanda enjoyed a very favorable situation as our father didn’t hate any of them and his attacks against them were rare and benign. It had always been that way.
When I was 29 years old, I read in an American magazine (Newsweek) an article about Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder and I knew I suffered from that. Two years later I told my psychiatrist and he proved his incompetency, denying the possibility that I might be suffering from ADHD. He told me that children who exhibit this disorder, typically fail early in school. He didn’t know that a high IQ masks this disorder.
I began elementary school at six, like most children do in my country. I was very motivated to learn to read and write. I had learnt the vowels and a few consonants already, no more than a total of ten. The school year began in September (1970). By October, I could read already and soon after that I could write. Anyone would have expected from me to become a very good student, but a year later I was already the worst pupil in my class, both in achievement and conduct.
My bad behavior reflected the atmosphere that pervaded our home, my father being a very violent and abusive man and my mother a very codependent woman. She was very sick.
Somehow things got better at school and I went from one grade to the next. In subjects that involved reading and writing I was always one of the best without trying, but everything that involved numbers, as arithmetic or anything related to mathematics, I was absolutely lost.
At 19, I started my higher education, pursuing a major in engineering. I could add and multiply; I couldn’t subtract nor divide. After several years, having failed miserably I became aware that I had spent my life as a child and as an adolescent being unable to learn. Then I locked myself in my bedroom (now being a young adult) and began to study by myself every subject in which I was weak. I planned to work to earn the necessary money to go back to College to finish my engineering major.
At the same time, I began to read books and periodicals in English trying to master this foreign language. I read every paragraph and looked every unknown word in a dictionary. It was a very difficult period in my life because I was an adult who was supposed to be working making a living and I wasn’t making a cent. My parents didn’t know that I had not finished my studies and I couldn’t explain why I wasn’t working.
I lived in poverty, lacking money because I didn’t work. I lived with a stigma for being unemployed, kept by my father. I was alone and very sick (although I didn’t know it at the time) with no friends nor a girlfriend. Time passed and I didn’t obtain a job, I was penniless and fighting an endless war with my father.
In 1993, being 29 I was able to go back to College and in the beginning I excelled obtaining very good grades, but a year later I suffered a breakdown and was unable to keep going. I failed a second time. My life seemed to be over. This second failure (now I was 31) nearly killed me.
Late in 1995 I was hospitalized to receive medical attention and I stayed as an inpatient for about seven months. By mid 1996 I was discharged.
In November 1997, being 33 I got my first job and I did very well. I could do a very good work because I had applied myself to learning engineering subjects and because I was a proficient English speaker. This last ability got me in trouble with my boss, who had been my friend for over 10 years, and couldn’t take that I did something better than him. In January 1998 he stabbed me in the back and fired me.
This second fall almost destroyed my life. I was unable to obtain another job and now being much older than 30 lived unemployed, in very bad mental health suffering a Borderline Personality Disorder and now abandoned by my entire family.
A few days earlier, Jeffery Alan Jung had learnt that I lived (and had lived most of my life) unemployed and he told Monica that I was a despicable human being. He convinced her that I was the scum of the earth and she felt ashamed of having a sibling like me.
They arrived a Friday and by next Sunday Monica was very angry with me. Being at a beach destination she told me in front of my mother, my sister Yolanda and her family that I shouldn’t have been there with them and made clear that I was embarrassing her in front of her husband. I left the place and came home deeply humiliated.
Jeffery Alan Jung had used my sister to attack someone who was fallen, someone who a few years back had lost the desire to live. Jeffery used a sick feeble-minded woman, his wife, to attack someone who welcomed them in his house, someone who had been fallen most of his life.
This is the kind of people Monica M Jung and Jeffery Alan Jung are.
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