Rex Ogle - Punching Bag

Punching Bag

REX OGLE

Norton Young Readers

An Imprint of W.W. Norton & Company

Independent Publishers Since 1923

To anyone whos ever been pushed down,
and needs a reminder to get back upto stand again,
and keep reaching.

& for Marisa,
who never had a chance...
but has never let me give up on life.

AUTHORS NOTE

T his is a true story. This is my story. It happened to me.

And as painful as it was for me to write, it may be equally or more painful for you to readespecially if youve lived through something similar.

If youre not ready to read this, then dont. Please, go enjoy some sunshine, watch a funny movie, or buy yourself an ice cream. This book will be waiting for you when you are ready.

But know this: I lived this, I survived. You survived your past too, or you wouldnt be here reading this. We are both alive. We may have a few more scars than wed likeinside or outbut we made it through. No matter how dark the past, or even the present, the sun will always come up tomorrow. There is hope.

This story (and that ice cream) are waiting... whenever youre ready.

AFTERWORD

I survived.

Repeating that is good. Its important to remind yourselfafter something truly awful has happened to youthat you are still alive, that you are still kicking, that you can keep going. That you survived.

We are all survivors. We all have a past. We all have tragedy in our lives. We all have dark moments that we want to forget, or at the very least forgive. And forgiveness is important.

I do a lot of school and library visits for my first book, Free Lunch. Some of the questions that always come up include: Did the violence stop? Did you ever forgive your mom? And do you still have a relationship with her?

The short answers are No, Yes, and No.

As it does, the violence continued in my house. It came and went, but it was always present. Which is why I moved out at age sixteen and moved in with my abuela to finish high school. I got good grades and went on to graduate from the University of Texas at Austin. Then I moved to New York City and managed to earn myself several dream jobs, including editing comic books. There were a few years of self-harm, because on some level, I missed the violence. But eventually, I made a decision that I didnt want that in my life anymore. So I stopped. I have been violence-free for over a decade now. I am grateful for that.

As for forgiveness, it took a long time, but after ten years of living away from her, I did forgive my mom. I couldnt forget, but I could forgive. And carrying around all that hate and anger and sadness inside me? It didnt do anyone any good. Especially me. It was better to let go of the past, to stay in the present, and to focus on happy tomorrows. As for forgiving myself, and loving myselfthats something I am still working on. Every single day.

And for the final question, no, I dont have a true relationship with my mom. Or my stepdad. They have since split, and both have remarried to other people. And divorced again. I dont know much about their current lives, but whatever theyre doing, I dont pass judgment on them. Its not my place. It doesnt serve any purpose. I dont have a relationship with them, because it wasnt healthy. And when I have tried to reconnect, I realized thatwhile I have changedthey have not. Or at least, not enough. As hard as it was, I chose to let go of toxic relationships and focus on positive connections. I have new friends, new family, a new partner, and a good life.

I am learning to be happy.

I am telling you all this because I want you to know (again) that I survived. And that whatever youve gone through, youve survived it to be here, in the present. Now. But if youre anything like me, youre carrying a lot of pain. My advice? Let it go. Let the past be the past. Move forward.

Yes, life can be dark. It can be pain. It can be agony. But it can also be sunshine. And birds chirping. And the song of the ocean tide rolling back and forth. It can be a childs laughter. It can be your own laughter. Life can be good too.

Life is never perfect, but is always many thingsoften at once.

Please, remember to try and enjoy it.

Best,
Rex Ogle

Punching Bag

If you or someone you know is experiencing violence, depression, anxiety, or suicidal thoughts, please know that you are not alone, and there is help. There are people trained to listen without judgment and to connect you with resources or information that you need.

The services listed below are free and available 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year.

NATIONAL DOMESTIC VIOLENCE HOTLINE

Provides lifesaving tools and immediate support to enable victims to find safety and live lives free of abuse.

1-800-799-SAFE (7233)

www.thehotline.org

SUBSTANCE ABUSE AND MENTAL HEALTH SERVICES ADMINISTRATION

Provides free, confidential 24/7 services for individuals or families facing mental and/or substance-use disorders.

1-800-662-HELP (4357)

www.samhsa.gov/find-help/national-helpline

NATIONAL SUICIDE PREVENTION LIFELINE

Provides 24/7 free and confidential support to people in emotional distress or suicide crisis.

1-800-273-8255

www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org

homecoming

P eople get off the plane. I wait in my seat, feet not touching the floor. I remember my stuff in the pocket on the seatback in front of me. I put them in my blue-and-red backpack one at a timea Mad magazine, a coloring book, a yellow box of forty-eight Crayola crayons. I double-check my shirt for the gold pin the pilot gave me. It has two wings on either side, with a circle in the middle that says Delta.

Outside the plane window, the night is dark. Lights blink in the distance, but all the shadows up-close seem different.

As the last people shuffle off, the plane gets quiet. Lights flicker, and seat belts hang loose off the sides of chairs. Overhead compartments are empty. Trash is in the aisle. For a second, I think Im the last person on the plane, that they forgot about me, like all the magazines that people left behind.

Then the stewardess appears with a warm smile. You ready, Rex?

Kellys hand is soft. She wears a stiff blue jacket and skirt. Her black shoes have little shiny dragon scales. I wonder if theyre from a real dragon. With blond hair and firetruck-colored lipstick, she looks like a famous actress I saw in a movie one time, except with shorter hair. Shes real pretty. And nice too.

When Kelly asks how old I am, I say, Seven.

Wow. I fly with a lot of kids, but Ive never met a seven-year-old as brave as you.

I shake my head. Im not brave.

Sure you are. You didnt get scared or anything. Most little kids get really frightened flying all by themselves. But not you.

I was a little scared. But only during take-off.

Kelly laughs. Then you did a good job of hiding it.

We walk into the warm light of the airport. The halls are filled with the hum of people talking or eating or rushing by. Im wearing my backpack in front of me, squeezing it with my free arm.

From the other side of the glass, Mom raises her hand. All this joy floods through me. Three months in Tennessee with my dads parents was nice. We went fishing. Hung out in the woods a lot. Went to church and sang hymns. I met cousins I didnt know about. But its the longest Ive ever been away from my mom. I missed her