Sytch - A Star Shattered : The Rise & Fall & Rise of Wrestling Diva Tammy Sunny Sytch

A Star Shattered: The Rise & Fall & Rise of Wrestling Diva Tammy Sunny Sytch 2016 by Tamara Sytch

All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, without permission in writing from the publisher.

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Riverdale Avenue Books

5676 Riverdale Avenue

Riverdale, NY 10471.

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Cover by Scott Carpenter

Digital ISBN 978-1-62601-256-1

Print ISBN 978-1-62601-257-8

First Edition February 2016

This Book Is Dedicated to:

Chris, my one true love and soulmate;

My father, who made me the woman I am today

Stacey, my niece and soul sister, my fallen angel.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

Bruised. Battered. Broken ribs. Busted Lip.

Broken.

These are the physical feelings I have right now as I sit here, in an 8 x 8 cinderblock cell in the Mental Health Unit of the York Correctional Institution in Niantic, CT.

All that surrounds me are four walls of concrete, painted a not-so-lovely shade of lavender, a sink, a toilet, a shower with no privacy, and a Bunkie who has enough of her own emotional instabilities to not be bothered with my shit. At the rate her brain is functioning, she probably couldnt understand my shit anyway.

Im lying under my hospital green sheet and blanket, excited that I received this writing tablet from the commissary today. Yes, that is a highlight of your week when youre an inmate at a womens state prison.

Inmate # 393257, to be exact.

Youre probably wondering why Im here, right? Well, to put it plainly, the man I loved most in the world, and whom I thought loved me, put me here. Yep, my fianc Damien.

The man I was going to marry.

Just 29 short days ago, he put a ring on my finger and asked me to be his wife. I said yes.

Why the hell did I say yes? Was it because I truly did love him? Was it because it was the first time Ive ever been officially proposed to? Was it just that the sex was so good that I didnt want to let it go?

Maybe it was a combination of the three, because he really didnt have much else going for him.

He was one of the sexiest men Ive ever been with. The way his curly long hair would blow in the breeze; the way his smooth, caramel skin felt against mine. The way he would saunter up to me sensually when he wanted to make love, his big green eyes sparkling when he looked at me. It was enough to make me melt.

On the other hand, he lived in a pigsty of a dumpy apartment, held a job (barely) at a home restoration company making $10.50 per hour, and his one, and only, credit card was still being managed by his Mommy. He was always behind on rent, and each time I moved back in, I had to clear up his bills.

So, who was this man I loved so much? He is the man that has broken me down emotionally so much that I feel physically numb. I feel nothing whatsoever. Im sitting here in a tiny jail cell, and Im not even that distraught.

I have my moments where Ill break down and lose it a little, especially when most meals consist of cream of wheat and white bread, or slop as they call it.

Im numb. But, deep down, there are still feelings swimming beneath the surface.

Heartbroken. Cheated. Lied to. Betrayed. Used. Abused. Degraded. Demeaned. Brutalized. Hurt. Ashamed. Embarrassed.

In a word, shattered.

CHAPTER 1

THE BABY STEPS

Behold I send you out as sheep amidst the wolves; so be shrewd as serpents and innocent as doves Matthew 10:16

This scripture from the New Testament is easily my favorite because it applies to every aspect of my life, especially now.

Ive never felt more like a sheep amidst wolves as I do now. Im in prison. My life has fallen apart. My freedom is gone. Everything I own is in the possession of the man who put me here.

A man. A man I had planned to marry.

I never thought a man whom Ive known for less than a year could have such control over my life. Its pathetic and Im ashamed of myself, and this coming from a woman who has been headstrong, confident, and assertive all her life. I allowed this man to do this to me, to put me in this miserable place, to take my life from me.

Things used to be different.

I was born Tamara Lynn Sytch, 7 lbs., 6 oz., on December 7th, 1972, to Raymond and Noreen, a steelworker and a homemaker, respectively. My father owned a steel fabrication and construction company, while my Mom was perfectly content staying at home raising my two sisters, my brother, and me.

We lived in a doublewide mobile home in a mid-sized town in New Jersey called Old Bridge. Yep, a trailer park. To this day, I still dont understand why we lived in a trailer, since Dad owned his own company. We always had everything we needed or wanted especially me because I was the baby so I can only chalk up our living arrangements to laziness.

Dad always walked around with about $500 cash rolled up in the pocket of his navy blue work pants, and quite often I was sent to the store to buy a gallon of milk with a $50 bill and was told to keep the change. Needless to say, I was Daddys little girl. Actually, I was from the very moment I was born.

My father was retired Navy, so I was born in an Army hospital because of his benefits. I was to be named Jennifer Lynn, but that changed while my mother was in labor.

See, my father was a bit of a drinker in his younger years. The fact that his wife, at 38 years old, was in labor for 36 hours with their fourth child on the way 16 years since their third child was born put him over the edge a little. He was drinking and driving all over the Army base, and I mean all over all over the curbs, the grass, bushes, everywhere. The military police finally caught up with this mad man to arrest him, but when he explained the circumstances, they rushed him into the delivery room, out of pity, I suppose.

As my father rushed into delivery, drunk as a skunk, I was just coming out of the womb, and he proclaimed, Shes not Jennifer! Shes Tamara! as he waved the bottle of vodka he was drinking in the air with pride. Well, the vodka was aptly named Tamara.

There I was, daddys little girl from the first second of my life.

I was truly spoiled rotten, given anything and everything. I went fishing, crabbing, and hunting with Daddy. I went to amusement parks every weekend with my sisters and shopping daily with my Mom. There was nothing I ever needed because I had it all.

I was around 7 or 8 years old when my neighbor Joseph came over on a Saturday morning and wanted to watch TV because he said his parents wouldnt let him watch at home. Joseph was just a year older than me, but we were play buddies since we were born. He turned on local channel 11 (no one had cable TV back then) and guess what came on the screen?

WWF WRESTLING!

Now, I had never watched it before, nor did I know who any of the wrestlers were, but within a few short weeks I knew every wrestler, every weight, every town they hailed from, the good guys, the bad guys, the announcers, the referees everything! It was like crack for a 7-year-old kid. I couldnt get enough. It didnt take long until my Mom and my sister began taking me to live shows at the Meadowlands in North Jersey, each and every month. I was hooked!

I had every monthly wrestling magazine that was on the market; there must have been about 25 at the time, when you counted all of Pro Wrestling Illustrated titles, WWF Magazine , Wrestling Eye , Wrestling Fury , and so many more. I had every LJN rubber action figure as well, from Hulk Hogan to S.D. Special Delivery Jones. But the highlight of my month was seeing the WWF live, seeing all my favorites: Ricky the Dragon Steamboat, Ivan Putski, Barry Windham, Mr. Wonderful Paul Orndorff, and most of all, the Hulkster!