Wild meets Sociopath with a pinch of Iām Glad My Mom Died from a man's voice.
This is a story about a boy who wanted to be kind and loving but was raised by wolves and monsters who taught him to choose violence and aggression. As the boy grew to be a man, he wanted to be a protector of women but ended up being what girls and women needed protection from. He lied, cheated, and scammed his way through life until he couldn't.
This memoir is his moving account of discovering healthy masculinity from the inside out. His journey has been sensational at times and unbelievable at others, but for many readers, it has been absolutely inspiring. Will the hungry wolves outlast the desire to be loving and beautiful? Can men truly change?
There is hope in witnessing the depth and commitment of a person willing to try to be better without knowing exactly how. This memoir captures one manās struggle to transcend his past and imagine an entirely new future for himself premised on compassion, care, and advocacy.
We do not have to be what they did to us, but it's our responsibility to do something about it.
Wild meets Sociopath with a pinch of Iām Glad My Mom Died from a man's voice.
This is a story about a boy who wanted to be kind and loving but was raised by wolves and monsters who taught him to choose violence and aggression. As the boy grew to be a man, he wanted to be a protector of women but ended up being what girls and women needed protection from. He lied, cheated, and scammed his way through life until he couldn't.
This memoir is his moving account of discovering healthy masculinity from the inside out. His journey has been sensational at times and unbelievable at others, but for many readers, it has been absolutely inspiring. Will the hungry wolves outlast the desire to be loving and beautiful? Can men truly change?
There is hope in witnessing the depth and commitment of a person willing to try to be better without knowing exactly how. This memoir captures one manās struggle to transcend his past and imagine an entirely new future for himself premised on compassion, care, and advocacy.
We do not have to be what they did to us, but it's our responsibility to do something about it.
IT ALL STARTED in Mr. Sobieskiās science class in seventh grade. Sure, I
had a few wet dreams and even masturbated a time or two beforehand,
but those were alone in my bed in the dark. This experience was in the
bright lights of a public school classroom in a predominantly white, suburban
neighborhood with a real live girl with a real live adolescent girlās body.
Mr. Sobieski summoned the class to the front of the room to his black
Formica desk to demonstrate the experiment. I remember nothing about
whether it was physics, chemistry, or biology. I do remember that I was leaning
on his desk, noticing directly across from me that one of my classmates, Deborah,
was already leaning over. Everything stopped. As an adolescent boy, I was lost in
the experience of staring at two young breasts exposed from her white cotton
shirt. There was nothing unique or different about her breasts besides that they
existed, and she was directly across from me. I noticed her soft skin and the curve
of her breasts. I even saw part of her bra, also white and cotton: it was enthralling.
What happened inside of me was unique. Before that moment, I had had a
few girlfriends and briefly kissed one or two of them. I had a friend who used to
invite me over to her house, and we would turn out the lights in her bedroom,
much to her motherās chagrin, and āwrestleā on the carpet floor. Those were the
days of wall-to-wall shag carpeting. What Lori called āwrestlingā was the two of
us rolling and grabbing each other on the floor and grabbing my ass over my
clothes and me grabbing her ass and breasts over her clothes. Even though I could
feel the shape and form of Loriās breasts while wrestling, it was in the dark, and
she was wearing a heavy blue sweatshirt.
That moment in science class was the first time my body responded to seeing
two beautiful young breasts, not just in my mind. A warmth filled my chest and
belly. About a minute later, I was experiencing my first public erection in my
dozen years of life in this body! My genitals and entire groin area were alive,
warm, and vibrating. While my penis continued to grow, my desire and
excitement grew even faster.
I had this deep feeling in my heart for ten or fifteen seconds. I remember for
just a flash thinking, āI am in love. I will never love anything or anybody as much
as I do her right now.ā
That joy and wonderment were interrupted by the awareness that if I didnāt
do something quickly, I was going to ejaculate right then and there with my penis
pushing against Mr. Sobieskiās desk! I panicked. The handful of times I ejaculated
in bed, I was caught off guard by the experience and was alone in my bed in
the dark. I didnāt have to hide anything. I didnāt have to feel ashamed of having
an erection. I didnāt have to be embarrassed by the potential of having a wet spot
on the inside of my right leg.
I faced a dilemma in that I knew nothing. Nobody ever told me I was going to
have an erection. Nobody ever told me I was going to have a wet dream. Nobody
ever told me I would ejaculate this warm, clear, almost white substance where
only urine had come out. Nobody told me that one could feel shame, embarrassment, and excitement for a chemical reaction in my body during science class.
Most importantly, nobody told me what to do with this erection in public!
Nobody told me any of these things were going to happen. However, I was
given clear instructions and guidance on why I should hate girls. I remember my
chest tightening, barely being able to breathe, and my hands clenched together
as if I were holding a baseball bat. All I could think about was how I could hurt
her for doing this to me; this is what I was taught about girls. They do this to mess
with us and manipulate us. They play games with us. Our job is to hurt them and
take what we want from them. Thatās how you win the game. You donāt win the
game by sharing love, joy, and connection. You win the game by making girls feel
beaten, broken, and less than you. The goal was to win, not to be happy.
Our class was seated according to the alphabetical order of the last name;
Deborah sat directly before me. The next day, she wore a thin white buttondown
shirt that showed the outline of her bra on her back. I became turned on
by the knowledge of her bra and the memory of her partially bare breasts. I
became angry with her again. I hated her for making me feel this way. I was
furious. Deborah raised her right hand just as Mr. Sobieski turned around to
write something on the green blackboard. There was no precognition or plan. I
just reached my right hand around the right side of her body, put my hand over
her right breast, and cupped it. I squeezed harder than what felt natural or
enjoyable. She clamped her right arm down, not realizing that this would keep
my hand firmly on her breast because I couldnāt move it. A few seconds later,
Deborah started crying, grabbed my right hand, and yanked it away. For a
moment, I felt sad and ashamed of my actions. A few boys in the back row started
laughing and cheering me on. I felt powerful. I felt invincible. I felt unstoppable.
This strategy worked as it was supposed to for someone raised by wolves.
This violation was the first of many times I would grab one or both of
Deborahās breasts when she was unprepared in Mr. Sobieskiās science class. Two
weeks later, Deborah was out āsickā for two days. When Deborah returned, I did
the same thing, and then she got āthe fluā and was out of school for a whole week.
After her battle with āthe flu,ā I continued my assault on her body and spirit.
Deborah didnāt return to school for the rest of the year. I donāt know if she
ever told anybody what happened or why Deborah wouldnāt go to school. None
of the girls ever said anything to me. There were no consequences for my actions.
For the first time, I understood why my brother and father acted the way they
did. Monsters create fear and terror in others and experience power and supremacy in themselves. This was my first lesson on the male drug named Power.
Raised by Wolves, Possibly Monsters: From Mobster To Reiki Master is not an easy read. In this memoir, Michael Swerdloff gives a candid and detailed account of his life journey from adolescence to maturity through the lens of how he perceived himself and related to other people. The wolves and monsters in this story are the awful men in his life, primarily his father and older brother, who taught him to objectify and mistreat women. Time and time again, he watched beautiful, innocent, smart, amazing girls and women fall under the spell of men who only saw them as a conquest, something they can own, corrupt, and then discard. Not only did he have to live with the blame of not doing anything to protect those women, but he also found himself repeating the predatory behavior he witnessed, The first third of the book is the most difficult to read because it depicts all those horrible relationships, as Michael's life becomes a mess of alcohol, drugs, betraying his friends and the trust of the women in his life.
The change is gradual, as Michael discovers sobriety, therapy, a support network, meditation, service, and dedication to the practice of Reiki, all of which has an impact on the way he sees himself and the world. The discomfort he experiences in turning inwards and seeing all the trauma, guilt, ignorance and hurt is relatable, and so is how slow and intentional change has to be when we are healing. It was wonderful to read about the strong and selfless women and men who touch his life with love, light, and teach him patience to work on himself and find a better way to be in the world.
With a book like this, there is danger of the memoir turning into a laundry list of the bad things that happened to the person or that they did to others, becoming repetitive, or even worse, sensationalized if the focus is solely on the sordid details. Swerdloff avoids falling into this trap by analyzing each of the key events he described, musing on what he did wrong, how his choices in a particular situation were informed by his upbringing and the negative role models he had in life, and how each event fits within the bigger picture of his journey towards doing better.
While there are some minor editing issues and a few sentences that could have been structured better for clarity, the importance of Swerdloff's story shines through. It is an account everyone should read as an example that change is possible - real, thorough change that comes from within and permeates every thought and deed. Following Michael's transformation and the lesson he learns from each encounter, every small realization about himself and the way he treated women before, feels so authentic. The scenes I personally found the most touching were the accounts of his public speaking during events focused on sexual assault prevention - a person who has perpetrated such assaults talking in front of victims seems like wonderful cosmic justice. It was also truly interesting to get some inside information on social work and the AA community.
The second half of the book is dedicated to Michael's spiritual awakening and the healing effect it has on him and others. This part can even be inspiring to people who are not spiritual, as there are some universal takeaways and teachings that are relevant to someone who doesn't necessarily subscribe to any belief system or spiritual practice - kindness, mindfulness, looking inward and taking things slowly, being present in the moment and savoring meaningful encounters between people in which they exchange energy - whether you call it Reiki, God, or just a vibe.
There is such power in telling our stories, especially when they're uncomfortable and we have to admit things about ourselves we don't want to hear. Honesty is the best way towards healing, and Michael inspires by being raw and vulnerable. The reward for sitting through the discomfort of the first part is the hope and inspiration in the second part. We can't change what we did when we didn't know better, but we can choose to learn from it and use that information to lead a more meaningful and connected life.