Certified

By Jacob Yervan

This book starts with the early years and gives account of the roller-coaster ride that was my life. As a young adult, I accomplished good and bad certifications as a result of the madness that befell me. It tells the story of the physical and psychological abuse I suffered as a child and how I was groomed and sexually molested by pedophiles. Despite the shackles caused by the abuse, in this book I explain how I became a successful businessman and traveled to Europe. However, the pressures of the business world and the mental illnesses caused by years of childhood abuse, lead to a nervous breakdown, which sent me spiraling down the rabbit hole. During this downward spiral, I became addicted to crack cocaine, lost my job, became homeless, had various near-death experiences, tried to commit suicide multiple times, became a drug dealer, became a drug smuggler, and finally, became a criminal convict in a foreign country.

Inspiringly, it is not all doom and gloom. This book concludes with a success story and conveys how I managed to overcome the two addictions, the mental afflictions, and the criminal conviction. I finally, achieved maturity and stability, and can maintain a loving long-term relationship, help raise a remarkable child, as well as maintain and progress a stable career.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Oct 18, 2017
• ISBN: 9781546283171

Jacob Yervan

I am a 48-year-old man from South Africa. Growing up in the apartheid regime, I was indoctrinated by my elders to be racist. In addition, my father physically and psychologically abused me, which crippled me with mental afflictions for life. After school, I completed mandatory two years National Service and became a platoon leader. Working in the computer industry after the army, I achieved many certificates in my quest to become a successful business man. However, along the way I became addicted to crack cocaine, had several close escapes from death, attempted suicide a few times and ended up dealing and smuggling drugs overseas. Inevitably I was caught and served a four-year prison sentence in Europe. Rehabilitating myself, I studied through the open university while incarcerated and achieved a one-year certificate in Social Science as well as a two-year diploma, Environmental Policy in an International Context. Married to a beautiful woman from Eastern Europe, I am now living in England and we are raising a wonderful boy. To provide for my family, I have managed to secure and progress a stable career in a relatively recession proof industry.

Book preview

© 2017 Jacob Yervan. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 10/16/2017

ISBN: 978-1-5462-8318-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5462-8317-1 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Introduction

The Early Years

Young Adult

Awakening

Certified

Down The Rabbit Hole

University Of Life

The Road To Recovery

Mature And Stable

Conclusion

INTRODUCTION

I write this book, hoping it will inspire at least one person, to break the psychological shackles created by childhood abuse. As well as, to overcome the somewhat inevitable side effect, addiction.

This is my life long plight to overcome various mental afflictions caused by the physical and psychological abuse, I suffered for years, at the hands of my father. This book tells the story of how I fell victim to pedophiles, who groomed and sexually molested me. These childhood experiences brought about two tormenting addictions to sex and drugs. In this book, I also give account of my epic ten-year struggle to recover from my addiction to drugs. Furthermore, I battled for nigh on forty years to overcome an addiction to sex. As if the crippling mental conditions were not enough, I explain why I needed to reprogram myself from years of racist indoctrination, which I suffered at the hands of my social elders and religious leaders, whilst growing up in the apartheid regime of South Africa.

Inspiringly, this is a success story. I have managed to rehabilitate myself completely from both addictions. Almost all the mental afflictions I suffered from, is now a thing of the past. Even the criminal conviction I obtained, for smuggling drugs, could not keep me down in the gutter. I am finally able to maintain a loving and stable relationship, in which we are raising an astonishing child. Also, I have managed to secure and progress a successful career.

This book will have served its purpose if only one person reads it and turns their life around because they have learned from my mistakes and recover from addiction, or stop being racist.

To protect my family from being ridiculed, I have used a pen name and intentionally omitted or changed the names of characters and places.

THE EARLY YEARS

I grew up relatively poor and in a broken home, where I was abused for years, by my father. My parents were, what I call, opportunistic alcoholics. They would turn almost every opportunity into a drinking session. They often invited people to come to their house to drink and be merry. I refer to it as their house, and not ours, because they were old school parents. They often scolded us with phrases such as, Children should be seen and not heard, as well as, Do as you are told and do not ask questions.

Nevertheless, some of my early memories are of good times. Those memories are of family gatherings where the adults talked and mingled around barbeques. For fun, the children walked the streets in the neighborhood and played toktokkie, a game of knock on someone’s front door and run. I also remember these family gatherings dwindling down until there were no more visits. Only much later in life did I surmise, the family stopped visiting because these parties often turned into a spectacle. My mother usually became drunk and shouted verbal abuse at my father, before he, in a fit of intoxicated rage, beat the crap out of her.

The first time I tried to kill myself, I was about eight or nine years old. Having heard about it killing another child, I went to sleep with a plastic bag around my head. It did not work and I just woke up the following morning, still alive. By the age of twelve, because of the abuse and emotional trauma suffered, I had already thought of and tried to commit suicide about three or four times. Fortunately, I had no clue how to do it properly and all attempts were futile. Only I ever knew about these attempts. I had learned to trust nobody, which made me rigorously private. I did not tell a soul.

Running away from home was another solution I sought, to get away from the abuse. I tried it more times than I can recall. Cursed with a vivid imagination, I never got very far. The darkness with its frightening shadows scared the living daylights out of me. Another reason I stopped running away from home was because it was too painful. Every time my parents found or caught me, they scolded me, took me back home and gave me a beating for running away.

One of my worst childhood memories formed when I was about ten years old. There was a party at our house one night and I had to bathe and be in bed by seven o’clock. I was awoken by shouting and screaming. Feeling very scared, I sat up and listened. I heard my mother pleading for my father to stop beating her. Crawling under my bed, I cried quietly, lest he hear me and turn his rage onto me. I was too afraid to go and help, but thinking back now, I would’ve been of no use. I was just a child. He was a grown man and a boilermaker who worked with heavy metals and tools. He would’ve wiped the floor with me. The same way he usually did when he was upset about me not doing my chores, well enough by his standards. Nonetheless, I still felt the urge to assist my mother, but the fearful memories of being beaten up by him made me feel worthless. Feeling powerless, all I could do was cry and pray, to God and Jesus, to make him stop beating my mother. Needless to say, he did not stop. Only when I heard my mother’s head bang against something like a cupboard or wall and her voice go quiet, did he stop.

That night, I prayed to Jesus and God to bring about change in our lives. The next day, my mother packed us up, bundled us into the car and drove eight hours towards Johannesburg, a city far away from where we lived. I truly believed my prayers had been heard and answered. Not long after, reality inevitably came crashing down when my mother felt she could not adequately provide for her children and decided to return to the man who physically, sexually and mentally abused the members of his family. As always, my mother believed my father’s lies, that he would change. Of course, he did not!

I had learned to never bring friends home. Either for fear of what they might see and hear when my parents argued, or for concern about being belittled by my parents and embarrassed in front of my friends. Routinely, I left the house as soon after breakfast as I could, and only returned home just before dark. I played football on the fields, tennis on the courts, rugby on the grounds and cricket in the nets. With lots of