The story of my life 1/?
It all started on the 23rd of February 2003 in Drachten, Friesland, The Netherlands. I was born with a heart murmur and reflux disease. I was born into a family of six including me. My dad, my mom, my oldest half-sister Yvonne, my half-brother Jeffrey, my sister Janet and now me: Jan “Geert” de Boer. Despite my oldest siblings not being full siblings, I’ve always seen them that way. They are my mother’s children. My brother Jeffrey is challenged. He has severe ASS, he is mentally much younger than physically and he has a very low IQ. This made my parents tired and desperate since he was a pain in the backside when he was a baby.
My first memory is of my dad throwing with the chair I was sitting in. My second memory is of my dad squishing a rat to death with his bare hands. Sufficed to say, my dad was a very aggressive man.
I don’t remember this, but my mom told me that when I was 2 years old, my dad had a tantrum. He started throwing with things and my mom fled with me and my siblings. My dad managed to pull me from my mom’s arms and he took me with him. My neighbours called the cops, but they said they couldn’t do anything about it. My dad eventually calmed down and life resumed as if nothing happened.
My memories become more vivid at the age of 3. I remember going to kindergarten. I remember going to my first elementary school. I remember moving to a new town, Rottevalle. In these times nothing very interesting happened. When I moved I also had to change schools. I went to a below-average school. Everything was easy for me. I was good at reading and writing when I was 4, whilst the others weren’t. When I went to third grade we started doing calculus. I was very good at it. I was so good that they considered moving me from grade 3 up to grade 5. They decided not to since my social skills were already lacking.
In third grade, I changed schools yet again. I went to a more average school. I was accepted by my classmates straight away. My changing schools triggered years of bullying in my hometown. Years later I figured out it was because I was the school betrayer. Kids started physically attacking me in groups of 20. I could dodge most hits and kicks luckily. Every time I got home my dad got upset with me because it could only be my fault they bullied me in his eyes. And he was so upset I didn’t hit back. One day they bullied me whilst I was wearing wooden shoes. I took them off and started hitting the bullies in the head with them. I blew up and went mental. Something snapped inside me that day and I’ve been aggressive ever since. Due to me being 8 at the time, I barely hurt my bullies luckily. My dad was happy with me.
Around this time we got our first dog. My dad told me that if she ever shits on the streets, I should kick her. So I did, thinking it was the right thing to do.
My dad got more and more abusive these times. He blamed us every time he lost something. Usually his fault. He belittled us constantly. He’d hit us. He’d turn us against each other. His verbal and mental attacks hurt us, but I think the fact he never told us he loved us, complimented us or told us he was proud of us hurt the most. I think this caused me to look for confirmation and attention in my later life.
When I was 9, my school issued an IQ test for me. My IQ turned out to be 140, meaning I am highly intelligent.
Around this time the first signs of a possible future addiction showed. I’d read books until 2 AM every night.