mybrokenmindblog

[mybrokenmindblog]

Karma

Do you ever wonder if Karma will catch up with someone? I tell you, it happens to everyone. Not so great when it’s you, but damn amazing when it is someone who constantly tries to hurt others. Please choose to be kind. Nothing good comes from hatred of any kind. 

[mybrokenmindblog]

Like mother, like daughter

As noted in a previous post, I have a sister and two brothers. My sister is so much like our mother and yet she found a way to be an even more horrible human being. My sister is not an intelligent person by any stretch of the imagination. She has never cared about learning anything. She quit school in the 8th grade and just downhill from there. She was spared the brunt of the physical abuse because of her health problems but she experienced verbal abuse. Not as much as myself. Anyway, her thought process is that’s the way her mama treated her so that’s how she’s going to treat her kids. Literally, that was a quote from about 25 years ago. She is physically abusive as well. Her kids are adults now and she has a couple of grandkids she treats the same. The thing is, on top of all of that, she is super manipulative. She has to be in a constant state of drama. If it’s not naturally occurring, she creates it. She thinks that she really sly about it but everyone knows. She lies about everything. She will literally just make up shit as she goes. She turns on everyone at some point. She will trash you all over social media, lie, try to get everyone to turn against you. It’s just endless. She has called DHR on everyone, myself included. I didn’t speak to for over a year and a half. Tries to take or have other people’s kids taken from them. Then she will go on Facebook, block the person she’s currently trying to hurt and then brag to everyone else about what she’s done. She’s married to the sweetest man and she is constantly in his face about things he has no control over. She has isolated him from his entire family, including his one adult child. When they were dating and he was still in elementary school, she babied him and doted on him and treated her own kids like shit. As soon as she got that ring on her finger, she decided to get rid of his son. She started making up lie after lie about things he supposedly did. She had everything taken away from him, to the point that he had a bed, a small desk, and his school books. He wasn’t even allowed to close his door. He couldn’t go anywhere but school or do anything. She said he poisoned the water in her Keureg, he was jerking off in front of her, He went back to bed when she was having trouble breathing, which got him beat.  So he left for college and came back to visit one time. She did everything she could to make sure he got no financial aid and then kept tabs on the money he had to borrow for school and made up all kind of shit about what he was doing with the money. At this point, she had zero contact with him so she just made everything up. Then she had the nerve to tell her husband that she’s not the reason he doesn’t come visit. What the ever loving fuck? (I’m southern, don’t judge). So in the midst of all of this bullshit, lies, and constantly being in her husband’s face about his son, and his mother, and everything else she could bitch about, I told her several times that she needed to leave her husband the fuck alone and stay out of his face. It came to a head one day and he pushes her away from him by her upper arms. She calls the police, and then me, crying about what he did and begged me to come help her move (at my expense of course). When I get there, she is crying to the officers and saying the he made her leave her husband. I am literally screaming in my head “who the fuck are you crying about, the gangbanger, or the pedophile?” Her husband gets arrested and she and her adult daughter, who calls him daddy, decided to look up and post his mugshot and charges on Facebook. Two weeks later, she was back with him. I don’t, for the life of me, understand why he took her back. I have gotten to the point where I just cannot fucking stand her. When my dad passes, I am cutting off all contact with her. I don’t want her in my life, my kids lives, nothing at all. Of course, she’ll play the victim and make up lies about me. I do not give a fuck. The only reason I talk to her now, is because I love my great niece and nephew and want to be able to see them and I’m trying to make sure my dad is able to enjoy what’s left of his life without constant drama. That and ‘keep your friends close, and enemies closer’. I tried so hard to teach her daughter to be better but it’s a cycle that is just going to keep repeating. No amount of time spent making sure the little ones know that they are loved is ever going to undo the damage done and that breaks my heart. 

[mybrokenmindblog]

Ugh

I am so fucking tired. I honestly don’t know how I keep going, how I even find the energy to take another step sometimes. Everything is overwhelming. I know people who are little bundles of energy and I just don’t get that. They annoy me. I wonder if they’ve ever had to deal with bad shit in their lives. I think not. People who exude positivity are often very religious, they grew up going to church and believing that God will take care of them. I grew up being treated like shit by my mother. She was a lying, cheating, abusive bitch. I’ve heard many times about how people block out trauma to survive. Their brains literally hide all worst shit from them so that they can function. My brain is just the opposite, it’s blocked out most of the good. I know there had to be good times, I’ve seen pictures. Christmas mornings posing with our new toys. Birthdays surrounded by cousins and neighborhood friends; a homemade cake sitting right in front of me. I don’t really have any memories of those times, though. I can remember being afraid to say the name of the boy who lived across the street because it was also the name of the man my mom was cheating on my dad with. She took my sister and I with her to do that. I think we were about six and seven at that time but it went on for a few years. I remember he was an alcoholic who stuck a gun in my mother’s face right in front of us once. So, no, I never felt like God was taking care of me. I’ve never had a sense of inner peace or safety. I don’t understand how a God who loves us so much, would allow children to go through horrible things. Free will is an excuse. More on that at another time.

[mybrokenmindblog]

BP2

There are a lot of things that I have absolutely no control over. I’m at the mercy of migraine headaches, IBS, anxiety, and depression. I am constantly being pulled in multiple directions. I’m responsible for everything and I have to work any plans I make around the people I take care of. My son constantly tries to make plans at the last minute. My father has places he wants to go and things he wants to do. Sure, that’s fine. Give me a time and a place and we’ll go. I work around whatever we need to do. I don’t think anybody gives a flying fuck about what I want or need to do. We make a plan for Saturday at 2pm and then Friday night it’s oh, by the way, they changed the day. Now it’s Sunday at 2pm. Ok, Sunday at 2pm. Fine, I’ll change my plans. He starts telling what we’re going to do and that it’s going to last a couple of hours but we’re only going to stay about 10-15 minutes. Um, what? Then Saturday evening rolls and around and it’s oh, I decided not to go. Why? No reason given, so at this point I’m just fucking tired of hearing about this shit. Then, do you think I should go? Dad, I don’t care, just tell me what the plan is. He does this shit with every doctor’s appointment too. I say tell me what time I need to leave work so that we can be there when you want to get there. The appointment’s at 2pm so we need to leave at 1pm. The doctor’s office is 15 minutes away. Fine ok I will ask to leave work at 1pm, ok? Yeah, that’ll be good. Then the night before he’s like ok, I’m gonna pick you up at 12:45pm. That is not what we agreed on and it’s not the time I asked to leave work. How am I not supposed to be aggravated by this? 

[mybrokenmindblog]

Understanding

So many questions that will never be answered. Why did my mother treat me the way that she did? That one’s been in my head for as long as I can remember. She is the source of so much pain, both, physical and emotional. Every now and then I will figure out just a little piece of that puzzle. Like, I’ve come to realize that she resented me. Even though I made the decision to stay out of trouble to make things easier for her and my father, she resented that I made better decisions. I didn’t get pregnant at 15 or 16, like her. At 18, things really started to change. I was so done with her abuse and I started taking control of my life. I grabbed her hand mid-slap and told her she wasn’t hitting me anymore. I got a job and with that came more freedom. I had friends, and was able to go out and do things. For the first time, I could buy cute clothes. I remember buying this cute little knee length dress. I got dressed up to hang out with friends and asked her to take a picture of me. This was back in the days of film and having to wait to get it developed. I remember getting those pictures back and wondering how she could have taken such crappy pictures. They only showed about a third of my torso, no face or cute dress. It took me until about two years ago to realize that she did it on purpose. She did that because she never had the opportunity to be a teenager and to dress up cute to go out. She was pregnant at 15 and married by 16. I think a lot of the things she did to hurt me and break down my self-esteem, was done out of resentment. More example to come.

[mybrokenmindblog]

BP#1

I can’t get a single f*cking minute to myself. I can’t even go to the bathroom and be left alone. Within 2 minutes of me closing the door, every single time, my teenage son is outside the door saying “mom, I’ve got to dookie”. My elderly father lives with me too and he calls me at work 3 to 5 times a day and then will call me at least another 5 times when I get home. Every day! From the next room! It’s exhausting. Not everything is urgent enough that I need to stop and do it right then. And, I don’t need hourly reminder calls if I don’t. 

[mybrokenmindblog]

Childhood history: chapter 1

I could write an entire book about this and still never be able to express how fucked up some of it was. I am 100% aware that my childhood was nowhere near as traumatizing as others. I’m not writing to compare my experiences with others. We all have scars that no one will ever be able to see. Life is hard but I keep thinking it has to get better, right? I think I have finally outgrown the thought that there has to be something good in my future. 

By the time I was about 4 years old, I understood that my parents were overwhelmed. I remember making a conscience decision to stay out of trouble, to avoid making it worse. I, very obviously, was not planned. My mom was 25 when she had me. I was the last of 5 children starting when she got pregnant at 16. The first three were from a previous marriage. The first was stillborn due to abuse suffered at the hands of her first husband. My parents got married about a month before my sister was born, although they told us it was a year earlier. My sister is 15 months older than me. She was born with a condition that affected her ability to breath. The doctors didn’t know how to treat her condition. She was in a children’s hospital for most of the first 6 years of her life. More on that at a later date. So my parents had three kids age 7, 3, and 15 months when I came along. No money, no place to stay near the hospital, a child that was constantly fighting for her life, and then about 5 months after the sick child was born, it the midst of all this chaos, you find out that you’re pregnant again. I can only imagine the amount of dread and panic that brought. I didn’t understand all of that at age 4 but I could tell it was too much for them. 

[mybrokenmindblog]

Where to start...

My earliest memory is when I was 3 years old. I remember when Elvis died, it was on the TV. I don’t know why I remember that, I was too young for him to have made any real impression on me. I do love some of his songs and his voice was beautiful. Music, in general, has always been a solace, a confidant. When no one else cares or understands, music is always there and you can always find a song that relates to how you feel or what you’re going through. If I could choose one talent that I wish I had, it would be songwriting. I would love to be able to express myself in that way. Honestly, my thought are too scattered and I’m just not that creative. I will end this post with a verse that  could have literally come from my soul. I have never heard or felt anything that I could relate to more.

“I never ever cried when I was feeling down, I’ve always been scared of the sound. Jesus don’t love me, no one ever carried my load. I’m too young to feel this old.” 

That is from Cold Desert and came from mind of Caleb Followill from Kings of Leon. There’s a great story about how that song came about and ended up on their album. 

[mybrokenmindblog]

Introduction

This is for me. A place to put the things that have shaped me. I’ve gotten to an age where I just don’t give a fuck what people think about me. That is absolutely the best thing that has come with age. There is one exception: my intelligence. Don’t ever doubt that. I hate writing. I am that person. The one who texts in complete sentences. I rarely ever use shortcuts and I always use punctuation. I will try not to obsess over my improper use of punctuation, commas really. I throw those bitches in everywhere. I think my inappropriate sense of humor is one of my best qualities. I will not apologize for it. You have been warned.