[Kurt Calabrese] Walking on Eggshells // Part 1

SPEAKER_1 (0:00)

Thank you to Rula for sponsoring this episode. What Came Next is intended for mature audiences only. Episodes discuss topics that can be triggering, such as emotional, physical and sexual violence, animal abuse, suicide and murder. I am not a therapist nor am I a doctor. If you're in need of support, please visit somethingwaswrong.com.

Opinions expressed by my guests on the show are their own and do not necessarily represent the views of myself or Broken Cycle Media. Resources and source material are linked in the episode notes. Thank you so much for listening.

What Came Next is a show about a man who is a survivor, father, grandfather, and Chicago native, whose life and family history have become the subject of many media productions. Kurt has shared his firsthand story of survivorship in such outlets as ABC7 Chicago, the Chicago Sun-Times, Soft White Underbelly, Gangland Wire, and the Underbelly, Killing Kurt podcast. It's Kurt's goal to bring greater awareness to the lasting impact of childhood abuse and trauma, drawing from his own experiences to encourage conversations about healing, mental health, and breaking the cycle of abuse. Kurt's story offers a deeply personal perspective on the effects that violence within a family can have long after childhood ends, and also highlights the impact a larger social system of organized crime has. The Broken Cycle Media team is deeply grateful for Kurt's honesty, openness, and rawness over these next few episodes.

Kurt Calabrese (2:17)

My name is Kurt Calabrese.

I was born and raised in Chicago, Illinois. I have three children, a son, and two daughters. I have three grandchildren. My kids and my grandkids are my life, I've always been and will always be. They're also my therapy, especially my littlest granddaughter who just turned one. She couldn't have come at a better time in my life. She's got me focused back into wanting to be around for her. So I'm learning to take that every day and make it the best I can. That's all I ever wanted was a healthy, loving family, and I've got that.

I spent most of my life in the suburb of Chicago, called Elmwood Park. The city was five blocks from where I lived. It was a very small neighborhood. There's all mixtures of people in the town. But when I grew up, it was majority Italian, a small, knit neighborhood. You could leave your doors open at night. Everybody on the block knew each other. I couldn't have grown up in a better place.

My older brother was 16 months older than me. He was one grade ahead of me in school, and we were very close. We did look out for each other. My younger brother was 10 years younger than me. My younger brother, we basically raised him.

Thank God we were there to do that, because I don't even know what would have happened if we weren't.

I tried to be the best brother I could to both of my brothers. When I was in a position to help either one of my brothers, I did. I loved my brothers. I looked out for my brothers. I had a sister. She would have been younger than me. She only lived a day. They never even got a chance to name her. And as you'll see going through the story, if I say this with the utmost love and respect, it might have been a blessing for her not to be here because of the way my father was with us. The life she would have lived would have been horrible. And that's just going on what I've lived. But I know that that was also a sore spot for my mother because I don't think she ever got over that. My mother was just a fantastic human being and loved everyone.

My mother was very soft-spoken. My mother never had a mean thing to say about anyone. Every day, she was a ray of sunshine. You never saw my mom have a bad day. I can remember plenty of bad days, but you would never know it by talking to my mom. My mom was everything to us. She took us everywhere. She did everything with us. Any school events she was involved in.

We could never count on my father.

My mom picked up the slack to the point to where we didn't even recognize it when we were little. I didn't recognize it until later on in my life.

We went to the school to sign up for Boy Scouts and my mother took us. They didn't have enough den leaders for all the kids.

In order for us to become Boy Scouts, my mom had to volunteer to be a den mother, which is okay. But knowing my house and how we grew up, it's a little weird now. Friends that I grew up with were all in our den. It was something that wasn't supposed to happen, but did happen, and for all the right reasons.