MY LIFE, A LIFE STORY OF A MAN INFECTED
By David H Donahue
1963- Present

In 1963 I was born to Pamela Dobbs and Walter James Donahue. My mom unfortunately was an

alcoholic which from my understanding plagued her to her death in 2011.

I did see a picture of her with me and my brother Mike which was probably taken back in

1966. She was blonde hair blue eyes like me and had a temper that was insane. When my
father finally divorced her she had cut all of his clothes up with a pair of scissors. I don’t have many pictures of us growing up though, no memorabilia or family airlooms . It
seemed like our lives were different than other people. We were the ultimate dysfunctional family but ironicallyat the time it seemed normal. Only in hindsight do I realize that wow, that was a weird scene. And believe me it
was, there’s no doubt about it.


I was born in San Diego California at Doctors Hospital, a small hospital located in Point Loma. In my youth I was taken there for an appointment and saw two kids being taken out of an ambulance been in a car accident. They were badly burned and I’m sure they most likely died. I have always been scared of hospitals. They to me were places a person goes when something is wrong. Due to my mom’s alcoholism I was born early by quite a few
weeks and had pneumonia. I was very small and weighed around 5 lbs and was put on an incubator. Later my brother was told by my dad that
I came out kicking and screaming so I guess I had a lot of fight in me. I’ve always been a pretty stubborn person
as you will see as this book goes on. Born of Irish descent I sometimes don’t know the right
course of action but I always have tried. My birth was difficult but needless to say my entire life would be
challenging with roadblocks on every corner. The first real recollection of my life I have began back in the 1st
grade when I was enrolled in Ocean Beach Elementary. This was a school for 1st through sixth graders
and was definitely the beginning of my life as I know it. I was an ok student however I had a difficult
time concentrating on subjects. I also always had a fascination with people and what made them tick.
Getting in trouble because of my constant daydreaming in class and my inability to focus on my
studies was common. This issue would remain throughout my life and prove to be a hurdle I would constantly
climb. I wasn’t stupid just constantly distracted by this that or the other, maybe some undiagnosed ADHD. My childhood was constantly
unstable and I never really knew what to expect. This may be why regardless of my situation now I continue
to try and help my son have the best possible environment I can.

In or about 1966 my father finally divorced my mom Pam and I guess had had enough of her drinking.
He was a former US marine and was a member of the United States Marine
Corps Marching Band. He was in the service in 1956-1960 from what I’m told. He was also a gifted
pianist which would become his form of employment for years to come. When he divorced our mom
my brother and I were sent to stay with relatives who lived up the street a few blocks. We would be
taken to school or kindergarten or daycare by my dad and dropped off at the relatives afterwards .
He worked at night doing piano gigs around San Diego and it really seemed he was always gone. In the late 60’s he had bought a house but was still single
at this point, the divorce had made him gunshy. So the next 3 years consisted of us being shuttled back and forth to school and then back to
the relatives house to play and sleep until our dad picked us up the next day and took us back to school.
We would play rock em’ sockem robots and play with little GI Joe men pretending we were in a war. So
life continued this way until about 1969 when I was 6 years old and my dad met a new woman. Her
name was Kathy and had a daughter Melissa. She had black hair was tall and had a distinctive mole
around her mouth. I remember being scared and nervous the moment I saw her, she looked mean, like a witch. Little did I know at the time she
was to be the new mom that replaced my real one and I soon found out she had her own set of rules.
She had been extremely nice at first and it made me nervous like something wasn’t right about her.
Later I found out she had been trying to raise her daughter in a small garage close to the beach. She
had no work history and she remained that way her entire life. I didn’t understand at that point what
her real motives were after all I was just a kid. Only in hindsight do I realize that she was probably just a
a person that needed someone to support her .At this time I was about 6 and was in the
first grade. I had already been bounced around a few times. I had gone to kindergarten and a day center
in the previous years and my brother was 2 years ahead of me in school. He was the oldest and was
born September 12 1961. He was always a good student and continued to excel throughout his entire
life. He was smart and had good friends and always stayed clear of our stepmom, he had her figured out
quickly and would always try and figure out ways to get her to leave our house and never come back.
His efforts were futile, she was a master manipulator and would not leave a good thing at all cost. This
was one of the reasons I have had a hard time trusting people. The saying “Wolves come in Sheeps
clothing” makes so much sense to me. To this day I cannot judge a person by what they look like but
rather what they first say to me. It seems I always attract people who want a cigarette or a couple
bucks and it bothers me to no end. I have never asked for anything from people except a job and I don’t
feel that people should depend on strangers for their daily needs. It was instilled in me as a child and I
will hold those values and morals until I die.


When Kathy moved into the house the problems began. She had a temper, smoked a lot of pot and was
extremely moody. I disliked her from day one. Nevertheless she had her own agenda and was not
about to let anyone get in her way. She ruled the house with an iron fist and my dad was no match for
her. She would show her temper daily and in some pretty evil ways. Bathing was brutal and consisted
of her washing us with a scratchy washcloth that would hurt especially when she was the groin area
being especially rough. She also would cut our fingernails until they bled and the hairbrush was her
weapon of choice when it came to punishment. It was brutal and unnecessary but it was what it was. In
hindsight I think there may have been extreme enjoyment for her in the beatings she gave us.

Impressum

Verlag: BookRix GmbH & Co. KG

Texte: Dave Donahue
Lektorat: Cheryl Berkes
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 03.06.2012
ISBN: 978-3-86479-749-1

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Widmung:
Dedicated to those who have helped me survive