#my grandma is the most narcissistic bitch I know | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moreotpsplz · 4 years

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Nicknames my mom has given me

Idiot

Stupid

Bitch

Bitching

Resting Bitch Face

Lazy-ass

Puts me down by comparing me to my brother; “Oh, at least someone’s using manners.” wink, wink, nudge nudge

“You have no social skills! Learn to communicate! Talk to me!”

“I don’t like one-worded answers!”

“DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!” Yes.” DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!” Yes, Mom.” DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!”

She kept repeating that, over and over again. I responded with yes, yes mom, okay mom, I understand. I obviously didn’t give her the response that she wanted and she kept yelling, only louder. Even after she stopped, I never understood what she wanted. She never explained it to me. While she was yelling at me, I was crying loudly but still trying to give her the right answer. A few hours later, she came to my room and apologized saying that she only said that because she loved me and that I should never doubt that she loves me.

Whenever I would vent to my dad or my aunt, they would say that she was only doing it because she loves me and that she’s trying to express her love for me.

Years later, I finally found out after she was yelling at my brother, that the understanding thing was supposed to be responded with “yes, I understand.” And then to summarize what she said and what we understood.

I feel like for me, it’s mostly verbal and psychological abuse while with my brother, it’s physical abuse and emotional abuse. I often hear her slapping him and throwing things at him. She yells at him when his handwriting is incomprehensible and when he is having trouble with homework and therefore hasn’t finished it yet. She also yells at him when he does something wrong as throwing the gutsy in the recycling bin instead of the trashcan.

With me, it’s mostly yelling at me about my grades. Over the years, I have mastered the neutral-to-hostile look, apparently. My face normally doesn’t show emotion around her. As a narcissist, my mom gets angry when she yells at me and I don’t show emotion outwardly. Apparently, my face is called the Resting Bitch Face. I have been told by my dad once that I was being bitchy because I wasn’t thanking my mom for the dinner. My mom, under her breath, has called me a bitch when I did something that she didn’t know I was doing and didn’t ask permission even though she probably would've said yes otherwise. She has called me an idiot or stupid even though I have really good grades. My ‘lack’ of social interaction is troubling to her apparently. Whenever i don’t talk to her or act a little ‘disrespectful’ to her, she rhetorically asks me if that was how i talk to my friends (who I CHOOSE to hang out with and actually understand me) and that she was family and that family is the first one that you should act nicely to. As siblings, me and my brother often fight. Sometimes, he is being an idiot and I'm telling him that he needs to do something or it won’t work. I may raise my voice or tone a little bit and she hears it. She yells at me that i am his sister, so i need to act as the reassuring big sister and that she is the parent and that she is the only one that is allowed to talk to him like that. As the big sister, I’m supposed to guide him but I can't tell him what to do. Even though she never contributes to family events and she is already a terrible mother to both of us. As the big sister, I’m not allowed to ‘act like a parent’ but I'm also supposed to cook food for him, clean his room, do the dishes, clean the house, clean his room, help him with his homework, etc. My mother does literally nothing and locks herself in her room all day. She sleeps in all day and wakes up at night for a midnight snack. Dad is the only one who raises us. She reads her books on her phone all day. I’m supposed to be the parent who does all the stuff while Dad Is away but also the big sister that is supposed to support my little brother. My brother is four years younger than me. My mom can’t, my dad can’t, and I can’t control him. He steals candy from the top of the fridge and makes messes. He puts the gutsy in the wrong dispenser. He can’t help it. How am I supposed to stop him from doing those things while resisting the urge to raise my voice a little (In an authoritative tone)? I have no authority over him. I can tell him to do something and he will bluntly say no. Only my parents can tell him to do something and he’ll do it. If he disagrees with me, he will yell and scream and throw a tantrum. When my mother hears it, she blames me. When he does something wrong or something happens to him, I take the blame because I’m the big sister who’s supposed to watch over him 24/7. From the abuse, my brother is polite and insightful, I am ‘emotionless’ and distant and a bitch, apparently. I dread the months when my dad is away and I’m left with my mother. I lock myself in my room or in the basement to hide from her. She has this ‘out of sight, out of mind’ sort of brain, so if I stay away from her most of the time I can avoid any arguments. In the past, like with the understanding situation, she has ‘apologized’ and tried to tie up loose ends. Now, she doesn’t even approach us. She yells at us and makes us cry and makes us angry and she doesn’t take responsibility or apologize. The next day or a few hours later, she doesn’t even mention it and goes on with her day as if she didn’t just make her children cry. She would open our doors saying that dinner is ready and expect us to forget the event. I have had thoughts where I wanted her to die. I wanted her gone. I would imagine divorce papers or a magical disappearance. I can distinguish my family members by the sound of their footsteps and I have learned to hide when I hear hers. She has this ability to immediately ruin the mood whenever she walks into the room. I feel self-conscious when she’s in the room, thinking that she is judging me. I used to cry and get so angry when she would laugh or talk brightly with other people just after she ruined my day. She would always ask me to brighten up and that my face looked like my dog just died. I hate it when neighbors or people that just met my mom say that she is an amazing person. That admire her ability to order us around with just a word. They look at our obedience compared to other kids that just started cleaning the dishes every week. One guy that just met my mom told me that I was lucky to have a mom like that. I hate it. She’s able to completely change her attitude and demeanor around anyone outside the household. My dad, aunt, grandma, and brother all know her true self. A lot of arguments would start because my dad was informed of something or he wanted us to do something. My brother might whine a little bit or something. My mother, who would be sitting on the sofa in the living room on her phone, would immediately butt into the conversation and start yelling at one of us. Even if she didn’t know the whole story or she didn’t know what we did, she would yell at us. My dad would stand at the side and my aunt would probably enter the kitchen wondering what all the yelling was about. Both of them would just stand there and maybe take a sip of their coffee. After we would go to our respective rooms, my aunt would try to soothe us by saying that my mom loves us no matter what. I remember thinking that it would be better if she hated me. If I knew that she hated me, I could hate her too. If I wasn’t told constantly that she still loves me or she’s doing it because she loves me, I would know for certain. Being told that she loves me while also being on the receiving end of her tantrums sends conflicting messages. I don’t want her to love me. I don’t love her. I want her to hate me from the bottoms of her soul and I want her to come out and say it. It would be better if she came out and told me that she hated me instead of her indirect hints. I hate all this uncertainty.

I AM polite, just not to her. I can’t help it. I say please and thank you and sorry almost immediately, but not around her. My dad is the one who mostly does this but it’s still worth putting on here. Whenever he finds candy wrappings or evidence of doing something we’re not supposed to do, he summons both of us. It is always my brother. But he doesn’t admit it, ever. Over the years, i have either tried not to have a reason to get in trouble or I do it so secretly that nobody ever even notices it. My brother is not like that. He leaves evidence of his crimes everywhere. He can’t admit his crimes either, but he is also terrible at lying. My dad asks us which one of us did it. I tell him no, which is the truth. My brother lies and says no, too. My dad gives us time to confess and if neither of us confess, he punishes both of us.

Sometimes when she would see me after a few days while we were in public, she would reach over to hug me(An air crushing uncomfortable hug). I don’t like hugs. I don’t like physical forms of affection or even physical connection. Especially from her. I would pull away and she would remark, “Oh. Rude. I’m trying to hug you. Nevermind.”

I remember looking at my friend's moms and wishing I had a mother like that. I know their mother’s are probably different around me compared to my friends, but I want someone kind enough to not yell at me but not overly protective. I have talked to therapists and school counselors but i can’t find the courage to tell them what happens at home. I tell them the bare minimum, which still ends up telling them enough for them to get the general gist. They tell me that I should start family gatherings or talk to my mother privately to tell her what’s going on. They tell me that I should start family game night or something to help the family socialize better. I don’t know about my brother, but I don’t want that. It’s gotten to a point where I don't want her forgiveness. I don’t believe that she can be forgiven. She can’t and won’t change. When I turn 18, I'm leaving the house. I don’t want to talk to her ever again. I’d prefer no interaction to ‘positive’ interaction. If I stay in my room or avoid her, the arguments won’t happen. She is a toxic person that I have no obligation to spend time with.

My dad has said that she is suffering a few mental illnesses but that doesn’t excuse her treatment of us. He said that her mother was very strict and that she’s just trying to be a better person than her mother and that she’s trying to be less strict than her mother. I don’t care if she has a mental illness. I don’t care if she was emotionally abused. That does NOT excuse her treatment of me and my brother. I don’t care if she’s trying the best she can.

I have had thoughts of death from a very early age. I wanted to die. I would imagine dying and then becoming a ghost. As a ghost, I would witness her reaction. In some versions of my imagination, she was indifferent. In others, she would cry for months and she would suffer. I mostly thought of killing myself to make her pay. I wanted to see what she would do if something were to happen to me. One time, in a hotel, we had an argument and I got upset. Instead of returning to the hotel room (they were eating breakfast) I hid in the ice room. (Just to clarify, this room is used to dispense ice for the rooms. It’s not a life-sized freezer) I hid in that room for a while. The ice room was next to our room and I could hear them when they went to the room and couldn't find me. I stayed there for a while before deciding to return to the room. My mom hit me. She wasn’t crying, only frantic. She told me how close she was to calling the police and how dangerous it was to disappear. She asked what the hell I was doing and why I disappeared. I didn’t respond. That was enough proof.

I have learned that showing vulnerability is a weakness that she can exploit. If I show that I am hurt from her words or if I cry in front of her, she can use that against me. I try to keep a ‘strong’ face when she yells even though the slightest sign of anger causes me to cry. When I can finally retreat to my room and ‘freely’ cry, I use a hand towel to muffle my cries. I stick it in my mouth and bite on it and I don’t make a sound.

I never ask for anything extravagant anymore since I learned from my mother the horrors of money and debt. Even if we are driving through Starbucks, I won’t ask for anything. I am silent and excessively obedient.

I would always wonder if something was wrong with me. My mother has stated multiple times that I’m unlikeable and lazy. I can’t do things properly and I forget things. I sometimes don’t listen and other times I do exactly as she says. I was always the Quiet and Mature One. The one that Doesn’t Cause Disruptions. I was sworn to obedience from a young age and never grew out of it. I have an internal urge to defy my mom and do everything opposite of what she says but I also am afraid of what she’ll do if I defy her. I procrastinate and my grades are slipping. Whenever I interact with people around her, she always jokes that I ‘Finally joined us.”

My mother is a terrible person. I often wonder why my aunt and dad can even stand her. I want her gone from my life. I want her to disappear. I remember one Christmas, I had on my wish list for her to be a better person to me and to act nicely to my brother. I don’t want to reconcile with her. I don’t even want to interact with her. I don’t tell anyone this because i am aware of how terrible that would sound. To anyone that doesn’t have her as a parent, to anyone that hasn’t had to grow up with terrible parents, they wouldn’t understand. I have depression, anxiety, ADHD, and I am a maladaptive daydreamer. I haven’t told anyone this, at least in person or to anyone I actually know. I am also a Biromantic Autochirosexual who hasn’t told anyone.

I also don’t remember most of the abuse I underwent. I can only remember the major ones and the ones that went over and over in my head.

#Abusive parents #toxic household #obediance #blamed #toxic mom #depression #childhood trauma

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goldenpinof · 5 years

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so basically here’s a script of “Basically I’m gay” by Daniel Howell, if someone needs it

link to a google doc

Hello Internet.

«Sex! Secrecy! And a whole lot of internal screaming. Starring Daniel Howell. One of the greatest mysteries of our generation. What is Dan’s sexuality?»

Spoiler alert. I’m not straight. Sex, the foundation of life and the only thing we’re really supposed to do. Everyone’s obsessed with it. You bunch of degenerates. In the list of things that identify a person, one of the most important for other people to know is their sexuality. For, if sex is the primal force propelling all of these humans forward by their hips, they have to know. Are we gonna fuck? Or like could we? Or are you, ‘cause I’m just wondering. Now, we live in a heteronormative world, which is a long scary word that makes people feel attacked for some reason. Shh it’s okay.

What it means is people are presumed to be straight. If you’re not, then at some point, you have to “come out”, which is a whole thing. Or people might just try and guess based on something you do or the way you act, because yay stereotypes. So this is something you have to be clear on, because if you’re not, how are all these other people that aren’t you going to cope? But I’m pretty sure no one that knows me thinks I’m straight. So I don’t really need to come out as much as just clarify what the hell is going on. As here I am at age 27 and my sexual preference is seemingly still a vague, debatable, confusing, impenetrable mystery. But why? And what is it? Well, those are some big questions. Are you sure you wanna know my answers?

[YES]

Okay, well, if you say so 'cause this is a complicated and sensitive issue and when it comes to me, boy, there is a lot to unpack here and it is a total clusterfuck. So strap yourselves in and let me tell you a queer little story about a boy named Dan.

Chapter 1 – The Word

♪ When I was a young boy ♪

♪ My father ♪

Didn’t have much time for me because my conception was clearly an accident and he was a narcissistic proud man suddenly inconvenienced in the prime of his life and this emotional neglect gave me lasting problems.

Sorry that’s not all relevant right now.

I was an only child for seven years and with working parents. This meant I had to make my own fun so I was imaginative and loud which is something that my teachers used to say quite a lot followed by, “However.” Here I am age five. Look at me. Cute, poised, sassy, turning out this photo shoot like sorry, Grandma, I stunted on this set. Are you seeing this? In almost every way, I literally peaked age five. I loved being the center of attention. People said I had an infectious happiness, that my beaming smile brought them hope and joy. People that know me are laughing right now. But a boy, in the '90s being happy and generally polite acting? Sounds kinda GAY if you ask me. Literally, masculinity was so fragile, people were so proud and scared and society so aggressive that a boy smiling!?.. appearing to be empathetic or in any way emoting was seen as a threat. How dare they laugh and feel comfortable? They must be soft and weak and girly and GAY. So basically thanks, Grandma, for raising me to be a nice child, you dick. Just kidding. That’s a joke and I told you not to watch this video because it would be rude so if you send me a disappointed text telling me you’re offended, I don’t know what to tell you. Although, now I think about it, you did make me go to church for 10 years, which in hindsight probably also didn’t help ♪ Hallelujah ♪ the issue here so. But then it was time for little Dan to go to school and this is when it

♪ All went wrong ♪

'Cause it turns out most children, evil pieces of shit. Doesn’t matter if you try to raise a happy innocent child, throw that kid into school, aka, a literal Mad Max Battle Royale with the feral offspring of your local community. Yeah, that crap’ll be undone in about two weeks. I was six years old running around the playground pretending to be Sonic the Hedgehog or something when two brothers come up to me aged seven and eight with an unexplained aggressive look in their eye. And the younger one pushes me to the ground, kicks me in the stomach, and just says, “GAY.”

This was the first time I ever heard that word. Well, I don’t know what the heck gay means but apparently it means people kick you on the floor so that ain’t good. I didn’t know this child or give them any cause to have an opinion on me. And, actually, I never directly interacted with them again. What epic clustershit of failed parenting and general culture brought this tiny child to get angry and attack someone, then call them gay for looking like they were having fun outside. Are you okay, 1990s? And so my relationship with sexuality began.

I wasn’t looking to define myself as a child indiscriminately playing doctors and nurses with various friends until once somebody’s mum walked into a room to find three fully naked children sat on a bed sticking sellotape to each other’s butts. Yep, which I don’t recommend. Also, Jesus Christ, the poor woman that saw that. Then you get to the magic age around 10 or 11 where everybody suddenly wants to pretend they’re totally a “cool teenager” who’s doing all the drugs and the sex and the fights, totally. Boy, gay was a really popular word back then.

[[Boy] Uh, homework is gay. [Girl] Uh, my mum’s so gay. [Boy] Uh, you touched a girl, gay.]

This one little shit who I won’t name was one of the school bullies and he loved the word gay. He had it in for me and I have no idea why. You know me, Mr. Winnie the Pooh Meets Slender Man. Well, when I was 10 just Winnie the Pooh. I didn’t do nothin’ to no one ever and yet this guy used my pacifism as a punching bag where any group situation was an excuse to single me out call me gay for some reason and then make everyone else exclude me because they were scared of him. I had a girlfriend. We dated for six whole weeks. We kissed in a game of spin the bottle once by literally sucking on each other’s faces. Then she ended dumping me over speakerphone at a birthday party that everyone in my class but me was invited to but, hey. I don’t know what I was doing wrong, but at this age, I understood one thing. Being gay, whatever that meant, was clearly the worst thing you could be. On a Darwinian level, I was being told, okay bitch, “Survival Code”. Don’t be this apparently. Evolution. Plot twist, this bully I think he was a bit gay because once he asked me to have a sleepover at his house and I thought was me finally getting socially accepted only for him in the middle of the night to come up and ask me, “So who’s going to be the boy and the girl?” I was an innocent smol bean who didn’t really understand what he meant because, to be honest, I didn’t actually understand get how babies were made yet. But needless to say I think he was disappointed. Wow, closeted child turns into homophobic bully. Thanks again society. But this whole primary school journey was really just an amuse-bouche for the full six-course tasting menu of suffering that would be secondary school.

I went to an all-boys school. It was a literal hellscape. I thought it was hard making it through a school of 200 kids with two or three bullies. Try over a thousand where a clean 800 are fully psychopathic gorillas fueled by testosterone, Red Bull, and Eminem albums. Making sure that the word f- no longer means an innocent bundle of sticks or a cigarette anymore in the British lexicon. Nope, now it was a cool homophobic slur along with gay, gaylord, gayboy, puff, pufter, ponce, batty, batty boy, bum-boy, bender. Shit, this is so long. People have a lot of words for something they don’t wanna think about. Look at me in this stupid blazer. Oh, “you’ll grow into it at some point in the next four years”. Thanks, Mum. Day one, kid in form class, some stupid hedgehog-looking motherfucker side eyes me and says, “What you lookin at, puff?” First interaction at a new school. Great! My entire existence on a daily basis then becomes navigating this school like I’m in the bloody “Maze Runner” trying to avoid aggressive pricks with chode ties. And you know being verbally abused for being a nerd or a Greebo at least felt relevant to me at the time. Greebo, definitely one of my faves there and I’m sure that Korn and Slipknot would have been proud to have 12-year-old me as a fan. I kinda knew who I was in the hierarchy at that point. I was essentially a theater kid who spent all of his free time playing Runescape on the AOL browser on his mum’s PC instead of football. I accepted it. But at least I wasn’t actually this “gay thing” people kept throwing around because by now I understood a gay is a boy who fancies other boys. And to be honest I don’t really feel like I’ve ever fancied anyone before.

Then puberty happened.

Oh yeah, this is fun, tingly feelings, I smell bad. It was quite fun dribbling on this girl’s face playing Truth or Dare, maybe later we’ll go behind that bike sheds and, there I was sat in English class, my friend next to me. I watched as he delicately removes a pencil from its case. We briefly make eye contact as he flutters his long black eyelashes with a blink before staring forward. His eyes are so bright and beautiful yet they seem so sad and deep with emotion. I wish I could just understand. Oh fuck, I think I’m a bit gay. You’re telling me this whole time I actually have been the bad thing that people keep calling me? Shit!

Chapter 2 – Feelings

Oh do you hear it that faint hum, something coming from a deep, dark place too powerful to control? It’s the self-hatred. She is here and she’s only getting started. Short version, I fall hopelessly in love with a friend of mine who doesn’t feel the same way which crushes me into a million tiny pieces and years later actually it turns out he was gay the whole time. He just really specifically didn’t like me. [Double kill.] Here I am, 13, crying to evanescence alone in my bedroom feeling like there’s no point in really being alive as I’m clearly a faulty outcast person that has no place in the world. I stopped going to church with my grandma because I felt like I wasn’t really supposed to be there. Also, by this age, the whole Christianity thing didn’t really make much sense to me. And the adult services were dry AF compared to coloring in a picture of Jesus’s face at Sunday school. So other than the free tea and biscuits they gave away after the sermon, religion didn’t really have much to offer me. Damn, there was some good biscuits though. I miss that. But wait! All is not lost yet. Do you see that? A triumphant, rallying cry of guitars, stripey hoodies, and black hair dye. Emo had arrived! I swear to God, emo is one of the best things that happened to pop culture in the last 20 years. As well as inventing eyeliner and skinny jeans, a new word hit the theater, nerd, goth, band, kid corner that would change my world forever.

Bisexual. You can be normal and gay at the same time and some people think it’s cool? Well, slap a long fingerless glove on my arm and sign me up to Myspace 'cause Mum, I’m bi. It was a good term 'cause it was a catchall for anyone who felt sexually confused or curious that didn’t want to commit to something stronger which is very me. Big commitment issues. Thanks, fam. To be clear, regardless of whatever the 2006 teenagers thoughts and feelings were, being bi is valid and should not be excused away or erased by anyone. Thank you.

From this moment, I was a loud and proud raving bi to my close friends and the strangers on the internet who saw my clearly-labeled sexual preference on my Myspace page. And the emo friends I made at this time were awesome. We just used to hang and make out with each other and listen to music and drink bottles of Smirnoff Ice until we were sick on each other with no judgment. The judgment came several years later looking back at the photos that you can’t delete. So I didn’t need to tell my family or people at school anything. But the thing is with a Myspace page, anyone with an internet connection can read it. And so the rumors started spreading through my neighborhood that Dan Howell was in fact a bisexual. I had a friend in French class who one day, totally unprompted, just turned to me and said, “Hmm, yeah, I thought so. You give off a bi-vibe.” A bi-vi-, what the fuck is a bi-vibe? Great, yeah, nothing to make a 15-year-old feel self-conscious about his behavior like being told he emanates a bisexual aura. What am I supposed to do with that? Sorry that I give off mixed signals. I’m versatile. Turns out it was actually a social upgrade from being called gay all the time 'cause bisexual was a new word that only referred to sexuality so people actually had to decide how they felt about the fact I was attracted to boys. As opposed to gay which as we all understand is synonymous with bad and also implies a general threat, plague, curse/evil force that simply must be destroyed. People at school were actually almost nice to me with curiosity about it and a few of the boys that previously loved to just generically call me gay while throwing a compasses at me or something, now started to low-key flirt with me and some stuff happened. Go figure.

But then I entered the dark ages and no I’m not talking about my hair because I was never actually cool enough to commit to dying it black. As quickly as they arrived into my life, my emo friend group vanished into the night. Like the tip of an eyeliner pencil snapping or the HTML on your intricately-crafted MySpace page falling apart when the host websites of your embedded gifs die, so, too, did my social life. One had to suddenly focus on school, another moved town, two of them just fell out with each other and started hanging out with their old friends again. Well, we don’t all have back up friend groups, Lindsey! I went all in on the emos! You’re telling me I have to go back to sitting in my kitchen playing Runescape now! Thanks a lot. So for a year I literally had no friends. And this is when the bullying at school really stepped its pussy up. The things people used to say offhand to me in a corridor were now said loudly in classrooms where everybody would laugh. People used to sing songs about me being gay on the bus while my fellow nerds sat around me just stared awkwardly out of the window not wanting to get involved. People shouted things out during GCSE exams in front of the whole school and the low key pushing became punches. People used to wait for me after school just to throw things at me. Once a guy put his hand around my throat and pushed my head against a coat peg in the locker room while everyone was watching and just slapped me for five minutes. But I never reacted. I never cried or got angry or fought back 'cause then I’d be giving them what they wanted and I refused to play along. But this way of dealing with things definitely had an impact on my relationship with emotion going into life. I became a total outcast. No one wanted to come near me out of fear that they’d get targeted, too. So no one ever stood up for me. And, you know, I don’t blame them. I just resent them even to this day. No, I’m kidding, I don’t really. I do. No, I don’t. I, hmm. Teachers at the time obviously did nothing. In fact, one of them saw this happening to me and laughed 'cause you know, boys will be boys especially the gay ones that get killed by the other ones, am I right? Ah, classic lad banter. And home. See, keeping this on the topic of sexuality and not economic class, violence, addiction, and health issues, let’s just say some shit was goin’ down. I didn’t think I could ask my family for help or share my feelings about this, mainly due to my dad. Funny guy, kind of a woke hippie who did and said a lot of things I did respect but at the same time used to walk around the house saying how he hoped someone he had a problem with at work would *clears throat* “die of bum cancer.” Yep, so picked the one area to be a bigot that would further traumatize your child. Nice! This experience coming from a childhood hearing the word gay meaninglessly thrown around as an insult at home and school, in music, on TV, to then realizing I am actually kinda gay, to then very specifically being attacked for it was traumatic. The world was clearly telling me if I ever wanted to be accepted by anyone or, in my particular environment, survive, I couldn’t be gay. I was afraid of it, literally homophobic of myself. I am talking Pavlov, sunken place, North Korea-level mind alteration that made me terrified of and repulsed by this part of me. This is called internalized oppression. It’s a real thing and it’s some real shit.

Chapter 3 – Internalized Oppression

From this moment I was no longer advertising myself as bi. No, BRB deleting that Myspace real quick, xD lemme get on that Bebo. “My Chemical Romance”? No, I’m listen to what’s this, N-Dubz? Jesus Christ. I go away for the summer break and come back to school quiet and serious and fully straight. *coughs* I needed me some new friends that were a bit higher up the social ladder, you know what I’m sayin’ for security so I go ahead and join “The Inbetweeners”. Literally this group of friends, the exact middle ground between nerds and desperately wanting to be cool. And oh how desperate we were. The great thing about these friends was they knew loads of girls. So firstly, instant cool points. Secondly, if I date a girl *scoffs* super not gay. The problem with that was it’s not like everyone just forgot everything that’s been said about me and this group of friends, casually homophobic pretty much all the time and also they hung out in places near some even more aggressive and super homophobic peeps. Just full-time Runescape would have been a better in hindsight. I find myself going through the same shit at school but now voluntarily going through it at the weekends from the people that are supposed to be my friends thinking I’m doing the right thing whilst constantly telling myself I’m now totally heterosexual. So I did what many people choose to do at that point and I got a girlfriend. But this is pretty messed up because I really liked this girl. In fact, I loved her as a friend and I was genuinely attracted to her but I was so afraid of sexuality I didn’t even wanna do anything straight in case I had some weird gay panic that I was totally frigid and I led her on. And when she got pissed at me, understandably, for being a terrible boyfriend, I just felt even worse. This was someone who I liked that I was hurting and lying to but I couldn’t leave as then I’d have no armor. Beautiful irony here is having a girlfriend didn’t in any way stop the abuse 'cause remember, gay is a great all-purpose general insult. (Call someone gay today and we’ll throw in a free set of steak knives.) And when these neighborhood teens started heavy drinking and getting into drugs, things suddenly got quite scary as people joked about setting fire to a tent as I slept in it at Reading Festival. Or saying, “You know that notoriously unstable guy? Yeah, he said he’s gonna kill you next Saturday.” Awkward.

This was definitely the lowest point in my life. I just felt totally alone, confused and I deeply hated myself. I used to ask God, in case he was there, to please, just make me straight and everyone stop. But I saw no end, no escape, no way to change the world or who I was. So one evening I thought fuck it and I attempted suicide.

I say attempted, because just before it was too late I thought

“oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit what have i done what have i done fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck?”

“what will your grandma think don’t do this to her she tried her best and she loves you”

“your family aren’t total dicks and this will fuck them up can’t you just get over it surely”

“you’re gonna get to the last year of school and give up now really what was the point”

“I heard this is one of the most painful ways to die so not a great choice if I’m being blunt”

Felt kinda bad for a few days otherwise I pretended it never happened and I didn’t tell anyone, until now, literally. Hmm, I know pretty dark right, but hey spoiler things kinda worked out. I mean still gotta lot of issues but here I am. I’m so glad I failed for so many reasons, for the people in my life, for the future I would’ve wasted. The most important being that I thought I was trapped in a situation forever when in reality, the entire world I lived in and my life changed completely. I thought it was hopeless when in reality there was so much to hope for and that’s it. Time changes everything. With the lives that we have, we can try anything we’ve dreamed of. I want anyone that’s ever felt like this to realize you are never trapped. There is always hope. You just need to believe in yourself and get to the other side. So yeah school age 6 to 18, I’m gonna give that a bad Google review. The thing is I did stand out. I’ve always been a loudmouth, class clown, annoying shit. Since graduating, it turns out half the people I knew were fuckin’ gay. That group of friends I had, all lovely people now. Five of them were gay, five gays! That is statistically irregular. Oh but they flew under the radar. All I’m saying is I wish people just hated me for being annoying and immature. Leave the gays alone!

My light at the end of the tunnel was university. I was gonna get my A levels move to a new town and ghost these bitches. But I took a gap year first to earn some money which was very boring sitting at home and working at ASDA where I was not happy to help. My shift started at 5 a.m. on a Saturday. Signed up for a Twitter account to run my mouth off and then bam. “So my name is [Dan].” My YouTube story begins, a new chapter of my life to redefine. So you know what I do? Get a Formspring because nothing gives you that attention feeling like one of those anonymous question and answer websites that are inherently toxic and no one should use. And straight out of the bat bisexual Dan returns. 'Cause hey, just like Myspace, I’m only telling a few people on the internet right now. It’s not like one day I’m gonna get so many followers that random strangers and my family might see it. Wow, I had a lot fun with many different kinds of people in 2009. Let’s just say I got a lot out of my system. Got a couple of things in my system, too. Sorry.

And this is when, through the magic of the internet, I met Phil. And obviously we were more than friends but it was more than just romantic. This is someone that genuinely liked me. I trusted them. And for the first time since I was a tiny child, I actually felt safe. And the relationship we formed at that point was something that I needed in my life. We are real best friends, companions through life, like actual soulmates, not that souls are a real thing that exist. It’s so lucky to just find someone you can be that compatible with and especially to anyone that has experienced the kind of self-hatred that I have dealt with, one person accepting you can make all the difference. And I bet so many people wanna know so much more about that which, honestly, I take as a compliment. But here’s the thing. I’m somebody that wants to keep the details of my personal life private. So is Phil. I know lots of people these days, thanks to social media, want to share and monetize every aspect of their life and then as soon as something changes suddenly it’s this huge drama because everybody got invested in the story of your life like it’s a soap opera. I don’t want that. I wanna do certain things without an audience. I wanna be spontaneous. I don’t wanna feel afraid to take risks. I want to enjoy totally fucking something up and not have to post a statement about it. And if anyone thinks people really have to share these things about their life, you need to rethink your position. And look, I understand that sex is a fun and interesting thing to talk about. I get it. I am also a disgusting pervert. But the specific minutiae of who I be fuckin’, when, why, where, how long, how, uhh, I mean? Sexuality is a general fact that it can be very useful to know about a person for several reasons, but we can’t force people to disclose that either. We don’t know this person’s life story, what they’ve been through, if they haven’t told people, if they’ll lose their job, if they’re in danger. There are so many reasons someone might not be open about it. We can preach the message that being out is good, but aggressively speculating or trying to out someone is really bad. They might not be gay, in which case we’re just harassing someone and probably stereotyping. And if they are there’s gonna be a reason why they haven’t talked about it. So I don’t wanna see any responses to me finally talking about this like no one is surprised. “Dan we been knew.” Wow, you huge galaxy brain genius. What’s it like walking around with all those brain cells in there working overtime? What, you got like three in there? Don’t lose your balance, mastermind. I haven’t exactly been subtle have I? I’m an awkward, sexually ambiguous nerd. “What the fuck even is your sexuality?” That’s not the point. I’m already dead inside so it doesn’t matter here, but to me if someone’s reaction to a person coming out is just, “yeah, I knew”, they’re showing no empathy towards the issue or that person. They’re just making it about themselves like it was a fun piece of gossip they already knew. All we have to do is listen and be accepting.

So anyway back to the tale. Whilst things were looking up for Dan aged 18, things quickly got messy again. Wow, that beats the emo streak of temporary self-acceptance by like six months, nice. There was a point around 2011 where the relationship with my audience shifted from what felt like direct communication between me and individuals that just saw me as a comedy creator to communities of people that formed to talk about me when I wasn’t there. Which is fine, but for some people it was about getting generally invested in me and my real life which I thought was a bit strange 'cause inevitably like anyone who puts themself out there, some people started to really dig into my private life to find out information about me that I wasn’t ready to share. And this was around the same time that YouTubers finally started to get mainstream recognition in the British press. We had the BBC knocking at our door trying to offer Dan and Phil a radio show. From that, Dan and Phil became this entertainment duo that we could have a creative career with. And we love working together, so when all these opportunities came for Dan and Phil, we were really excited but I was also scared as people clearly knew I wasn’t straight and I hadn’t told my family that. None of my old friends knew about this, and what me and Phil had was ours and personal and yet some people were trying to get access to it for their own satisfaction. It was no longer a few people on the internet, no big deal. So I just shut down. It felt like I was back at school again, surrounded by threatening people trying to expose me for their entertainment. Most I’m sure just wanted what was best for me and I feel such genuine sadness and am sorry that I couldn’t be closer to and more truthful with the people in my life that were just trying to be nice but I wasn’t ready to deal with it at this time so I had to do something to contain it. I definitely sent some mixed messages. Some were just joking around, others were super defensive that in my panic came across like “I’m now telling everyone I’m totally straight” when all I really meant was “please fuck off and don’t invade my privacy, you creepy stalkers, thank you”. But this experience seriously triggered some PTSD in me and I was back in the dark place. I didn’t want to just disappear from the internet to escape it and throw away this creative hobby that actually started paying rent. Thanks. So I just decided to put anything to do with my sexuality in a box to come back to later as I was still processing my past and I wanted to understand my identity on my own terms and timeline and not just have it hijacked as fuel for people’s sexual fantasies or some headline in an article. And whilst we’re not exactly living in a utopia yet here on YouTube, the general internet culture only five or six years ago was a much less wholesome, progressive place as this little bubble is now. Sure, a lot of people probably would have been supportive, but there was just as much open bigotry and general toxicity 'cause people felt less accountable and it was okay to say certain things 'cause it’s just on the internet and I couldn’t handle that at the time. And, generally, I can handle a lot. I have big hands with a very wide reach for playing piano, you fucking.. get your mind out of the gutter. We can’t ask people to just put their lives on hold to address their sexuality first. If a kid dreams of being a footballer and age 18 gets signed to a club and all their dreams come true but they’re scared to come out because of the insane homophobia in that community, they shouldn’t turn it down. Yes, it’s so important to be truthful about who you are and open and proud in front of the world but it’s our society’s fault that these people are scared to say who they are. So let’s all focus on making it a welcoming place and people will come out when they are ready. So when was I ready? Well, it’s always been on my mind that I need to talk about this at some point. I couldn’t just keep going forward in my life ignoring it, not only just so I can be authentic, which is very important for general existing, but also just letting people know what kind of sexual attention I want from the world. All of it from everyone. God I’m so thirsty. And if anything motivated me, it’s the idea that I can help someone else 'cause that’s basically my whole career, isn’t it, admitting to shit that I’ve been through so you will feel better about yourselves. There we go, you’re welcome. I have a platform and a following of millions of people, many of whom I know have been through exactly what I have. And if I tell my story as painful and flip floppy and flawed as it is, I know it will mean something to someone as every time someone speaks openly about sexuality, it saves lives. I’d never met a single out gay person until I was 18. And if I had, or even just seen better representation in the media, I wouldn’t have felt so totally alone. I wouldn’t even be saying this to you now if it wasn’t for TV shows, musicians, and public figures in the last couple years reinforcing this to me. It doesn’t matter if I was living the life privately as there was still so much confusion about my feelings and fear. But things are better now, on the internet, on TV, in my real life. It’s not perfect but it feels safe enough in this space right now for me to feel confident. So thank you, sincerely, to all the brave people that came before me and to any of you that made this world seem welcoming for me. And instead of procrastinating from this by focusing on work, which was a way for me to insure my own independence and survival in case I was rejected, or just doing things for other people to take my mind off it instead of asserting my own needs, which my therapist keeps telling me is one of my biggest problems. Here I am with a fresh void of time in front of me to fuck up however I want. Now look, we all have different experiences in life. Some of us are lucky, some of us not. It just so happened that the first 18 years of my life were horrendously shit. It failed me. But we get dealt cards from the start, too. If you look at my life, I was born into this world as an able-bodied, white, cis-man in Britain which immediately gives me so much privilege in this current world and I am fully aware of how much harder making it to today could have been for me, which is why we all need to stand up for equality and social justice even if it doesn’t apply to us. No one stood up for me when it mattered the most and that almost cost me everything. So if you see a woman being harassed, a gay being threatened, someone muttering something racist, say something, do something because if you’re still or silent, the victim will just think that you are against them, too. We all have a responsibility.

This tale was just some of the stuff relating to sexuality. We all have a whole sob story if we wanna tell it but I just wanted to explain the journey of how I got to this point and overcame the obstacles that tried to block this path. And now I’ve arrived.

Chapter 4 – Labels

Okay cool story, bro, it’s answer time. What’s your answer. Whaddayalikedafuk? Here’s the thing, you want me to talk candidly about sexuality as if it’s something that I understand? I don’t know what it is, why it is. Turns out no one knows. I’ve been sitting here for years waiting for scientists to just work it out like bleep bloop. [Oh this is why and exactly how it’s different for people. There we go.] Thinking I shouldn’t run off my mouth on the internet in case my theories and opinions on varying gayness get debunked next week. Well, I waited long enough and it didn’t happen. Science, ya fucked up, you let me down. And I fully expect to have to delete this video in two weeks when you find out all the answers suddenly. Thanks a bunch. What makes someone gay or straight or all the things in between? What the ever loving fuck is gender about? This is a mess. Yet people want you to give them a word because that’s how humans communicate with words that have meanings. Which is why our disgusting species is impatient, stupid, and obsessed with labels. And this applies to everything, sexuality, gender, political identity, what obscure genre of synthwave you listen to. People just want a label that represents something they understand so they already know how to feel about you and don’t have to bother thinking. [Oh you’re a feminist well I don’t need to know anything more. Oh you’re a leftist. Oh you’re a K-pop fan but but but but.] If people just want to find a way to disagree with you or dislike you, they can refer to the label and turn off their brains. Hey, what does my label say? Huh. The issue is, especially when we start talking about the writhing mass of confusion and suffering that is sexual and gender identity, the limits of language and specific terminology become a big problem. What does being gay mean? You never thought about a boob once? What does being a man mean? You wanna be an emotionless rock rubbing raw steaks against your biceps? It’s not like humanity is all in agreement right now. I don’t like the stereotypes and drama that come with all this terminology so I’m just not gonna use it. Thing is gender identity isn’t my issue. I feel comfortable with the identity that I’ve had my whole life. Dan, a tol boy from England. But being a man means nothing to me. I wouldn’t feel uncomfortable wearing makeup or a sickening pair of heels, though I can’t even draw in a straight line so that would be a disaster. Also is anyone really comfortable wearing heels? Hmm. Icons of masculinity aren’t really a big part of my life. Might as well call me a fucking formless blob that sounds more relatable. Shout out to all my formless blobs out there, rise up. I don’t have to do anything or be anything and I personally wouldn’t feel offended if I wasn’t referred to as a he. Well, she’s feeling hungry today. Stop fucking judging me, Susan. I’m sad and I’m gonna eat this whole damn cake whether you like it or not. But anyone that has this don’t really care attitude about their gender identity is in a way privileged 'cause some people, especially trans, care a lot about their gender identity and using the correct pronouns which other people should respect. Likewise with sexuality, whilst to me the endlessly increasing list of tribes and flags being flown is a bit daunting and confusing and personally stresses me out 'cause I almost find it constrictive, some people like it. Because if you’re feelings are confusing and then you look at a word that represents something and go, “wow, that me”, it can help you realize you’re valid and find a community and that’s great. There is so much controversy around this issue and others but if we all just calm down, respect each other’s experiences and try to just be nice, reasonable people, which is a lot to ask, let’s be real, it’s quite simple. If you wanna use language to express your honest feelings and identity, that’s great and other people should respect what you say. Likewise, if you hate labels and you just wanna be a formless blob, that’s fine, too. No one should force you. The only thing that isn’t cool is telling other people what they should or should not identify as 'cause that ain’t your problem or your business, bye. This was one of the things that held me back from talking about this for years. Shit’s confusing, man. Let’s just go back to cellular reproduction by mitosis so I don’t really have to be specific. Two people that I really look up to and respect, Harry Styles and Janelle Monae, both famously say that they don’t feel the need to label it which, to be honest, is how I feel and is perfectly okay. But I get it, for me, you want a word. Oh, that’s hard, though. I’m an annoying guy. I feel uncertain specifying my sexuality in the same way I wouldn’t say I am an atheist. Who the fuck am I to say whether God does or doesn’t exist? I don’t know shit 'bout shit and neither does anyone else. I mean I think it’s unlikely in the same way I know I like DICK. But I’m not gonna pretend to have a definite answer here. Looking at my public statements is inconsistent and confusing. Looking at my personal track record through life is super confusing. And looking at the void inside my soul threatening to crush the entire universe with the force of its event horizon of misery and melodrama, well, fuck let’s close that shit up. One thing’s for sure whatever heterosexual is, I ain’t it. Really if you ask me, I don’t think anyone’s totally straight. I think there’s a lot of social and emotional issues getting in the way of yet to be understood feelings of attraction that can be very flexible. And trust me, I’ve known a lot of straight guys until a couple of drinks, some deep conversation, and lingering eye contact, and suddenly they just start leaning in. What does that make them? And am I totally gay? No. Am I slightly more gay or is it just easier for gays to hook up with each other because of societal norms. It’s not like the signs for male and female bathrooms are what I’m attracted to. I don’t care what flesh organ you have between your legs, what your hair’s like, if you’re covered in it or a fuckin’ beluga whale. I’m gonna be honest, I’m not picky. I’m easy. So am I bi or pan or poly? Well, now we’re just in a clusterfuck of defining language and I’m confused and sad and horny. This is why I personally love the word queer. I understand that some people don’t as it is a slur but as someone that’s been the target of it several times throughout my life I’m up for some reclamation. It’s like recycling. The definition makes sense because until society is equal with all sexual and gender identifies, it is literally strange from a conventional viewpoint plus it’s better than a super long acronym, it’s inclusive of everyone and therefore great for formless blobs. There we go, an identity I feel comfortable with. A highly-strung, depressed queer praying for a giant meteor to hurry up and finally eradicate humanity. LMAO, yeet!

But to come full circle, I know that even today, deep in my heart the word gay scares me because that’s how I’ve been conditioned my whole life. So, you know what? Fuck the literal definition and the scientific definition and what everyone thinks. I finally have to just confront and accept this.

I’m gay.

Oh look, didn’t spontaneously fucking combust. Well, there we go, that was a lot of stress about nothing, wasn’t it? Bloody hell. So yup, I’m here, I’m queer, and don’t worry I’m still filled with existential fear.

WE’RE HERE, WE’RE QUEER WE’RE FILLED WITH EXISTENTIAL FEAR.

Chapter 5 – Fear

Even though I’m at this current place, there is still so much I’m afraid of and this has taken months to make because of that. Telling my family was a big fear. I have problems connecting with them emotionally because reasons. So I only came out to them this month and if it didn’t go well, as I’m now the independent adult that I fought so hard to be, I was ready to cut them off like the bottom of a sweater turning into a seasonal crop. But I didn’t have to, love you. I didn’t think they’d reject me these days but coming out is still a surprise. It changes things. And I’m a pretty awkward person generally but the idea of just dropping this in conversation in front of them all terrified me. And I tried several times this year to do it but I just couldn’t. So you know how I finally came out to my family? E-mail. Yep, I literally just sent them an e-mail saying and I quote,

“Hello gang. I’ve been meaning to talk to you all for a while, something quite important that should be disclosed at some point. I thought I would around Christmas, then Mum’s birthday, then last Easter Sunday, etc., but every time I meant to, I either felt like I would ruin the mood of the day or I just felt awkward and didn’t want to. So I decided just to email you all instead which is really inappropriate and just weird but that somehow seems appropriate for me and at least I’ll just finally say it.

Basically I’m gay.”

Yup. It was just getting ridiculous so I thought screw it and hey, it worked. Turns out my remaining family, pretty chill bunch of people. Even my Christian grandma said this,

“We love you for being you. It must be a great relief to finally acknowledge who you are. Popsie and I just want you to be happy. People are born as they are and have no say in it. I hope that now you will feel free to live your life as you want with no pretense.”

Aw.

“Don’t forget the iPad.”

Yes, I said I’d give her my old iPad. She mainly cares about that I thing. Wasn’t so sure when I was 17 but it went well now and I know that makes me lucky but, hey, it shows that times change. As for the other people in my life, obviously all the friends I have now are cool. If anyone in my life I’ve ever known isn’t cool with it then I don’t care. And sure here online there might be a few incredibly lost bigots following me or just some classic trolls who I think should get fucked. No, like literally, I think you should try it. You’ll probably enjoy it and you might learn something about yourself. Inevitably some of you watching this might have a weird reaction if you just feel like it was a shock or you feel hurt that I kept it from you. But I feel like I explained myself reasonably here and going forward I can’t have any space for that, sorry. I’ve come to terms with who I am and now you have to, too, ha. Funnily enough straight up homophobia is probably the one thing I’m not that afraid of, because I just don’t agree so it doesn’t hold much emotional power over me but you bet I’m opening myself up to all new kinds of in real life and international discrimination now which is fun. But one of the other big fears holding me back was, honestly, that I wouldn’t be accepted by the community. I know that it’s a big pride flag covering a lot of ground and even the idea of it and certainly most of it is amazing. But there is a lot of drama within it right now especially on the internet. You’ve got Grindr gays arguing about how manly gays should be, bi’s getting ignored, trans people, especially of color, not being historically appreciated, acephobia, fucking SWERFs and TERFs. No thank you. So even though they are my people, I know some of them will have problems with something. And even then, just seeing such a loud and proud, strong and opinionated group of people celebrating something just intimidates a smol introvert such as myself. And in my mind if these people don’t accept me because I’m not being definitive enough or I took too long then I almost feel like I’ll be alone all over again, and this is a fear that a lot of people have honestly. But I’m a nice guy and I’m trying my best so you better be welcoming, you bunch of fuckin’ queers. And obviously with the topic of sexuality, it doesn’t matter where we are or how far you think we’ve come, by merely mentioning it, I will be opening up a primordial box of bullshit which will include every single stupid argument and question since the dawn of time. [It’s not natural.] There’s gay animals. [Adam and Steve.] That’s based on a story and the protagonist that arrives later probably doesn’t agree with you. [Why can’t we have straight pride?] I could spend 10 hours on all the classic crap and people would still be asking the same things. This being posted on the internet, my hopes are so incredibly low, lower than my self-esteem. Wow, that is unhealthy. I need to stop doing that. This video is about internalized oppression and the problems of language. I’m not here to pontificate on every topic tangentially related to the entire concept of gayness. *ASMR voice*: Pontificate on every topic tangentially related to the concept of gayness.

There’s other humans and all the time in the world left for that. The time in the world coincidentally being not much longer. Climate change LMAO. But I had to tell my story so people would understand me and these things. Why coming out is still a big deal because queer people are often invisible and suffering until they have to do it. Some people grow up in supportive environments and it’s a positive experience. But more likely, especially around the world outside of the big cities, it isn’t. This is not a fight that is anywhere near over. Even in Britain today people are debating whether children should be taught to be accepting of sexual and gender identity in school.

Queer people exist. Choosing not to accept them is not an option.

To anyone watching this that isn’t out, it’s okay. You’re okay. You were born this way, it’s right, and anyone that has a problem with it is wrong. Based on your circumstance, you might not feel ready to tell people yet or that it’s safe and that’s fine, too. Just know that living your truth, with pride, is the way to be happy. You are valid. It gets so much better. And the future is clear. It’s pretty queer.

So there we go. Now I can proceed authentically in my life with full disclosure. Cute mutuals know to slide into the DMs. And you can all fuck off and leave me alone.

Bye.

#basically i'm gay #daniel howell #danielhowell #dan and phil #amazingphil #phil lester #yes im tagging i dont care #if there's a flaw somewhere (like a missed part or sm) dm me so i could fix it #id go through it again anyway but just in case #oh and it's literally just dan's substitles so all credits to him or whoever did that #hmm i wonder if they hired someone. interesting #have fun #the script

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

Sanctuary - Chapter 5

Warnings: some mother and daughter angst. That’s about it. Small mention of pregnancy loss.

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @valkyrie-of-the-light

Her folks live in a retirement community just south of Butte; a neighbourhood of red brick bungalow style townhouses with immaculately landscaped front gardens and rear yards the size of postage stamps. A far cry from the place they’d had in the suburbs, with its five bedrooms and inground pool and a kitchen large enough to host all of the family gatherings. But they’d chosen to downsize and spent four months of the year travelling throughout the United States in Canada in their motorhome.

Esme doesn’t visit as often as she probably should. Or at least that’s what her brothers have told her when they get going on their guilt trips. She tried using the excuse that she was just simply too busy: four kids to take care of (sometimes on her own), a husband, a home to look after. The truth of the matter was that just didn’t feel comfortable there; a noticeable chill in the air the moment she would walk through the door, followed by thick nearly unbearable tension for the rest of her visit. Her relationship with her mother had starting souring in her third year of college when she decided that academics was no longer what she wanted to pursue; she needed a change, a challenge, something that would give her a sense of accomplishment and pride. Her decision to join the Corps had ruffled a lot of feathers; two of her brothers had failed boot camp and her passing at left them both embarrassed and livid. Her mother had just been plain disappointed. She’d wanted more for her oldest daughter. Much more. And the idea of her being shipped off overseas to fight wars on foreign soil, putting her live at risk for the lives of others, didn’t sit well with her. This was her child. Still her baby regardless of age, and she felt personally slighted that her daughter would have the gall to be so selfish and not think of others.

Getting married had somewhat repaired things. Everyone had loved Mark; a career Marine from a long list of career Marines, handsome, charming, well spoken. And things had started out great. They’d been amazing, in fact. She’d thought she’d met the love of her life; he treated her well, loved spending time with her family, was looking forward to having kids of his own. He had known how to say all the right things and follow them up with the actions that matched. Fooling everyone when it came to the true person he really was.

Two years in, she had suffered a miscarriage. She’d only been two months along and the doctor had said that it was very common to for first pregnancies to end in unfortunate circumstances. She’d been devastated and had coped with it by throwing herself into the Corps. Mark had been livid; finding every excuse in the book to blame her for what had happened. He’d had it in his head that it was somewhat her fault and there was no convincing him otherwise. That was what set the abuse off; he became controlling, obsessed with her every move, began limiting her interactions with friends and colleagues, even family. He sought solace in the bottle, which in turn brought out violent and abusive tendencies that he’d no doubt been harbouring his entire life.

Ten months.

Ten months she had put up with it. She’d thought she could change him. Save him. And in the end she’d lost everything. Relationships with friends, respect from colleagues, bonds with her own family.

She’d walked away. With nothing but the clothes on her back and a hundred bucks in the bank. She no longer had self respect or confidence. So no longer trusted anyone; especially men. She left the Corps and never looked back. Her mother had been devastated. Not at the sudden change of career, but because Esme apparently had been ungrateful and never could see just how lucky she was. A handsome and charming husband, a nice home, a stable future laid out right in front of her. Esme could never quite wrap her head around her mother’s reasoning. How she could truly believe that anyone of that was true. It had been a show. All of it. Mark had never been any of those things her mom raved about. If he had have been, he wouldn’t have so easily turned into a monster.

And so began their toxic relationship. A far cry from how close they’d been throughout her childhood and most of her teen years. She’d learn down the line that her mother was than likely a narcissist herself and she’d never even realized that.

But she’d promised her older brother she’d at least try. After all, someone had to be the bigger person. And she had four kids that deserved to know their grandparents. She just didn’t want her mother’s issues being deflected upon them; she dreaded the idea of bringing them there and was filled with anxiety at the mere thought of her mother showing up on Christmas or birthdays. Tyler for the most part stayed out of it; he was the strong, silent type that didn’t need words to show you that his whole support and understanding was behind you. But unlike Mark who’d laugh at her mother’s cheap shots –“She’s just joking, Esme,” he’d insist. “Stop being so fragile”-, Tyler wasn’t the type to just sit back and put iup with it. He was protective (to a fault at times) and refused to let anyone talk to his wife…the mother of his children…that way. Which in turn led to an already tense situation being so much worse.

Her mother didn’t like him. She didn’t deny and didn’t attempt to hide it. She blamed him for the disintegration of her relationship with her daughter, despite the fact it had imploded years before he ever came along. She was bitter that her daughter ‘abandoned the family’ and decided to just move half way around the world to be with some stranger she’d met on a business trip. How dare she do something for herself for once? How dare she meet the love of her life; a man that actually worshipped her and respected her and didn’t lay hands on her? How unbelievably selfish of her not to just leave that same man on his death bed to come back to Colorado and kiss her mother’s ass. Did she not think of others when deciding to get married out of the blue and start a family?

It gives her anxiety even now, as she sits in her parents’ driveway, the engine on her SUV idling, the baby babbling and giggling in his car seat in the back. She knew she shouldn’t let things bother her this badly. That she should just take whatever her mother says and does at face value and just put a smile on her face and then leave knowing that it simply didn’t fucking matter what her mother thought about her life or the choices she’d made.

But it is easier said than done.

Her cell vibrates from where it rests in the side pocket of the baby bag on the passenger seat and she checks it before going inside. A text message from Tyler. Reminding her to just breathe and don’t let her mother get to her. That her mother’s shitty behaviour is all on her and has absolutely no bearing on her abilities as a wife and his mother.

Her being a bitch is just that. Her being a bitch. If you have to, tell her to go fuck herself. I’ll see you when you get home. Love you.

She smiles, sends back a simple ‘I love you’ in response and then drops her cell phone back into the diaper bag and kills the ignition.

***

Her mother is waiting in the doorway as she climbs the porch stairs, and she gives her daughter an awkward one armed hug and kiss on the cheek before taking Esme’s face in her hands.

“Look at you…” her eyes are glazed and her face is flushed; a definite aftermath of the Bailey’s she’d put her in four morning coffees. “…you look beautiful. I love your hair. But…” she holds her daughter out at arm’s length and Esme waits for what comes next. Nothing good ever comes after the word ‘but’. “…still haven’t lost all the baby weight. Have you been eating right? Exercising?”

“I don’t know,” she lifts Declan higher onto her hip, chubby hands grabbing at her earrings and her hair. The latter he keeps trying to shove into his mouth. “Does sex count as exercise? I think I heard it’s an excellent form of cardio. Because if it does, I get a lot of exercise.”

Her mother frowns. But instead of a witty or cutting comeback, turns her attention to the baby. She may be a shitty mother, but she excels at being a grandma. Or at least puts on a good show for everyone; wasting no time showing off recent pictures to friends and strangers in the store, spoiling them on Christmas and birthdays, showering them with affection.

“Grandma’s baby boy,” she croons, as she holds out her hands and he willingly reaches for her. “Well there’s one thing that he knows how to do well,” she says to her daughter. “He knows how to help make gorgeous babies.”

He. Just the sound of it makes Esme cringe.

She slips out of her sneakers as she follows her mother into the house, eyeing all the recent additions and transformations. New furniture, a fresh and different colour of paint, new flooring. “You’ve been keeping Sarge busy,” she remarks, as they head into the kitchen.

“Well you know what they say. Idle hands are the devil’s play thing. Sit…sit…I just made a fresh pot of tea and there’s some of my famous shortbread cookies. Unless you’d rather eat healthier. I do have some fresh fruit.”

Out of sheer spite she helps herself to two cookies and bites into both.

Her mother simply stares at her, then offers a long, exasperated sigh and slips into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. “I take it he’s finally home.”

“He is,” Esme takes a seat across from her, tucking the baby bag under the table. “And he has a name, mom. It’s not that hard to remember. Considering one of your grandsons is named after him.”

“How long was he…” she pauses and gives her daughter a phony, sugary sweet smile. “…how long was Tyler gone for?”

“Two weeks. It was only supposed to be four days but…” she shrugs, taking the pot of tea and pouring some of the beverage into two china cups her mom has set out. “…there were issues and he couldn’t get back until two nights ago.”

“Just what kind of issues? One with two legs and breasts and…”

“Oh my God, mom. Really? No. Just because your own husband can’t keep it in his pants during boys week in Las Vegas doesn’t mean all men are like that. Tyler does not cheat. Trust me. I would know. And he doesn’t have any reason to. He is perfectly happy with what he has at home. My husband is satisfied and then some. So can you please not bring that kind of shit up? Jesus.”

“I guess I could give him and you the benefit of the doubt,” she says. “I mean, you obviously know how to keep him happy in the bedroom. You wouldn’t have four kids if you didn’t. Don’t they make birth control in Australia?”

“Jesus…” Esme sighs, and rakes a hand through her hair.

“Oh come on…” her mother laughs and slaps her on the knee. “I’m just joking and you know it. You never have been able to take a joke. Stop being so sensitive.”

“Well maybe stop being such a bitch and I would be,” Esme counters, and her mother just rolls her eyes and mutters something about her having a smart mouth and always being an ‘ungrateful girl’.

“So where was he this time?” her mom asks.

“Mexico first. And then Guatemala.”

“Doing what exactly? Who travels that much for work?”

“A lot of people. And I already told you. He’s a contractor.” It isn’t entirely a lie. “People contact his boss for help solving problems and his boss sends him to where he’s needed.”

“What kind of problems?”

“Mom, we’ve talked about this. He’s in security. Through a private firm. He goes where he’s needed and he helps people with their issues and he comes home. Sometimes things go wrong and he’s there longer than he thought he would be. It happens.”

There’s a frown on her face as she bounces her grandson on her knee. “That’s no way to live. For you or those children. Can’t he find something that keeps him closer to home? What if something happens at the house? To you or one of the kids? What will happen if he’s too far away to get back in a quick fashion? That’s very selfish on his part if you ask me.”

“Well no one asked you, mom. It’s really none of your business. It’s his job and he’s good at it. Damn good. And he’s already said this is his last year at it. So just…” she sighs. “…just try staying out of it, okay? What Tyler and I do is none of your business.”

“It’s my business when my grandchildren are involved. Those aren’t just his children, you know.”

“Yes, I know. I was there when they were conceived, remember? Now can you please just get off his ass? Enough. I know you’re pissed at him because you think he stole me away from you and forced me to stay in Australia and trapped me into having kids and getting married. He’s a good man, mom. And he’s a great husband and an amazing father and if you’d get off his ass once in a while, you might see all that for yourself.”

“I have tried giving him a chance, Esme. You know this. But he isn’t exactly an easy person to get close to and…”

“Don’t turn this around and make him out to be the evil one. He’s been the one trying to give you a chance.”

“So why isn’t he here then? He can’t spend a half an hour visiting his mother in law?”

“He’s spending quality time with the boys and Millie.”

“I really wish you wouldn’t call her that,” her mother huffs. “It sounds so…redneck. Call her by her name. Amelia. It’s beautiful and it’s classic and…”

“She wants to be called Millie. That’s what she’s asked us to call her.”

“She’s five. She isn’t old enough to decide things like this.”

“Mom…” Esme sighs. “…it’s what she wants. She likes it. It sounds cute.”

“Cute? It sounds like she belongs in the outback.”

Esme smirks at that cheap shot. “I don’t know about that. If she belonged in the outback, we would have named her bathroom chicken.”

Her brow furrows. “What?”

“There used to be a chicken that lived in Tyler’s bathroom. It’s a long story. I called it bathroom chicken because the first time I saw it, it was sitting on the ledge of the tub. As far as I know, she’s still alive and kicking and hasn’t been turned into dinner yet.”

Esme makes a mental note to message Koen to see if, in fact, bathroom chicken was still shitting all over the place.

“I still don’t understand how the two of you actually met. It’s been five years and I still don’t know.”

“I told you. I was on a business trip.”

“And you just randomly bumped into him…”

“A colleague introduced us. She’d known him for years and she hooked us up. It’s not that difficult to understand.”

“And you were just so desperate to find someone and feel loved that you just latched right on and never came home again.”

“That’s not…” she takes a deep breath, trying to control her emotions. “…that’s not how it happened. Or why it happened. Can’t you just let this go? Can’t you just put that in the past and concentrate on the right now? Like your beautiful grandson sitting on your lap? Can you stop hating his dad long enough to realize what a gift you have right in front of you?”

That seems to have a struck a chord. And for the first time in as long as she can remember, her mother is rendered speechless.

At least temporarily.

***

“I spoke to Mark yesterday,” her mom announces several minutes later, as she sips from her own mug of tea.

Esme shifts uncomfortable in her chair, adjusts the receiving blanket draped over her shoulder and the baby’s face as he feeds. “And why did you do that?”

“He stopped by. To see how we were. At least someone makes an effort.”

“Well he always did like to put on a good show for everyone. Nice to see some things never change.”

“Can you believe he still hasn’t met someone? That a catch like him still hasn’t remarried?”

Probably because all the women around him these days are much better judges of character than I was, Esme thinks. “Well,” she shrugs. “Not everyone is cut out to be married, I guess. Maybe he finally realizes that. And how does he even know where you live? The last time you saw him, you were still at the old place.”

“Oh we’ve been keeping in touch,” her mother says it so casually, as if it’s totally normal to keep in contact with your daughter’s former abuser. “He checks in on us a lot. Always sends Christmas and birthday cards.”

“Well how very charming and gentlemanly of him,” she can’t stop the snarkiness that drips from her voice and she lifts the baby to her shoulder to burp him.

“He asked about you. He wanted to know how you were doing.”

“I hope you told him to mind her own business and not to ask about me ever again.”

“I told him you were back living in Colorado. That you were still with your husband and had another baby.”

“So he already knew about Tyler and Millie and the twins because…”

“Like I said. We’ve kept in touch. Why wouldn’t I tell him?”

“Oh I don’t know, mom. Maybe because he’s a narcissistic prick with no remorse who refuses to take responsibility for his own bullshit. Or maybe, just maybe, I’d rather him not know anything about me. Or my husband. Or my kids.”

“Well for what it’s worth, he seemed very happy for you. He said he was glad to see you got it together and was giving someone a chance to love you instead of pushing them away.”

“Of course he did,” Esme smirks.

“And he said that the children are beautiful. I said I agreed that they are, but they just look way too much like their father.”

“And that’s a bad thing, because…”

“I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. Because if there’s one thing we can agree on, it’s that your husband definitely is a nice tall cool glass of water. Certainly not hard to look at.”

“No. He most certainly isn’t. He’s even better to look at when he has no clothes on.”

Her mother scowls.

“And how would Mark know what the kids look like unless…” Esme’s eyes narrow. “…please tell me you did not go on my facebook and show him.”

“No! Of course not. I know how you want to keep that family only. I showed him some of the pictures you’ve sent us.”

“Jesus, mom. Why? Why was it so important to show him pictures? It’s none of his business what my kids look like.”

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset. Like I said, they’re beautiful children and…”

“He’s my ex husband for a reason. And one of those reasons is that he’s a total dick bag and I want nothing to do with him. So please stop telling him things and showing him pictures. I’d just rather you not do it, okay? It’s weird.”

“Only because you’re making it weird. Honestly, Esme…” she huffs, and pushes her chair away from the table. “…everything is always so difficult with you. Why is everything such a production with you? It’s why your first marriage didn’t work.”

“Oh believe me, mom, that marriage didn’t work for a lot of reasons. You just won’t accept what really happened. You have your head shoved so far up Mark’s ass….”

“You weren’t one hundred percent innocent, young lady. You had your issues too.”

“I lost a baby and he went off the deep end. I’m so very sorry for having a miscarriage and upsetting his delicate sensibilities.”

“Well as sad as that was, you certainly didn’t let it hold you back. You went on to have another four. He has none.”

“And I’m sure that’s by his own choice. Or maybe women are smarter there days and they see through his shit. I can’t believe we are even talking about this. About him. That’s my past. I’m married. I have a husband. Kids. And none of that has anything to do with him and you shouldn’t be trying to involve him in it.”

“Well let’s just hope you get rid of this animosity before he winds up on your doorstep.”

“Before he….mom…” her eyes narrow. “…what did you do?”

“He said he wanted to reach out to you. To make amends.”

“Mom…”

“I told him it shouldn’t be a problem, so…”

“Mom!” she snaps. “Please tell me you didn’t…”

“I gave him your cell number. And your address.”

“You didn’t,” Esme hisses.

“I did. I thought it would be good for you. To touch base and…”

“Why would you do that? Why would you tell him where I lived? That’s none of his goddamn business. Why…?”

“He just wants to talk to you. Make amends.”

“He can go fuck himself.”

“Esme…language…please…”

“You are just too much!” she uses her foot to pull the baby bag towards her and shoves the receiving blanket into it before standing up. “I come here to visit you...so you can see your grandson…and you have to do this! This stupid bullshit that you pull!”

“I don’t care how grown you are, young lady. Or that you’re a wife and a mother. You don’t speak to me that way!”

“I’ve had enough of this mom! Enough of all your mind games and you crap. I’ve been trying. I’ve been trying so hard since we go back here. We came back here for you. It was Tyler’s idea, you know. Because he thought I needed to be home. Because he thought you deserved to have Millie in your life. Because he felt some sort of misplaced guilt for making me stay in Australia. I didn’t stay there because I had to. Or to spite you. I stayed there because I love him and he needed me. Yet you have the goddamn nerve to shit all over him every chance you get. And you know what really makes you mad? It makes you mad that he doesn’t let you. You’re so pissed that he isn’t afraid to stick up for himself. Or for me.”

“Well if he just minded his own business…”

“I’m his wife. I am his business. He’s the father of your grandchildren. Whether you like it or not. And he’s the love of my life and my best friend and my husband and you’re not going to disrespect him like you do. I’ve had enough. Stop. Just stop.”

She holds her hands up in surrender. “If I’d known how you feel at the very beginning how you feel…”

“I’ve made it abundantly clear that I hate how you talk about him. You don’t know him, mother. You don’t know what he’s like or the things he’s done or the way he’s helped people. The way he keeps helping people. There’s a lot more to him than you think. And if you knew the truth, the whole truth, I think you’d respect him a hell of a lot more. He’s a hundred times the man than Mark ever was. A thousand times.”

“I think you’re giving him a little too much credit.”

“See!” Esme huffs, and slings the bag over her shoulder. “That is exactly what I am talking about. I love you, mom. I do. But I love Tyler more. And I’m sorry if that hurts you to hear that. But he’s the one that’s been there for me. He’s the one that sticks by my side when everything is going to shit. And it was his idea to move back here because he felt you needed me to be here. And that you needed to see the kids. If it wasn’t for Tyler, we wouldn’t even be here. Or would you rather that?”

“Of course not. I’m very grateful for that. To have you in my life. To have my grandchildren.”

“But you just can’t let it go, can you. You’ve got this hate on for him that you just can’t get past. You need to just let it go. For me. For your grandchildren. Because he’s their father and they love him to the moon and back and I won’t let you talk about him like you do in front of them. Can you at least respect them enough to stop?”

She sighs. “I can try. No promises though.”

“I do love you mom,” she presses a kiss to her cheek. “And none of this was ever about spiting you. I’m sorry that you think it was. That you think I stayed there to upset you. But I did what I needed to for him. And for myself. One day I hope you can realize that. I’ve got to go. I told Jennie I’d be there for noon.”

It would be the first time seeing her cousin since G had been killed in Dhaka. Five years of being avoided because the pain and the grief was too great and Jennie couldn’t except that her husband had died yet Tyler had been given a second chance. Why would the man who had so much to live to for have to be the one who died, when the man who didn’t want to live anymore was given the chance to go on?

Her mother walks her all the way to the car, waiting until Esme’s buckled the baby in his car seat before surprising her by wrapping her arms around her. A real hug this time. Warm. Loving. Two things she hasn’t felt from her mother since she joined the Corps and became the family disappointment.

“Drive safe,” her mother says, and kisses her cheek. “Call me when you get home so I know you got there safe. And tell everyone that I say hi. That grandma loves them.”

“I will,” she promises. “I do love you, mom.”

“And I love you. Now go. Before you make me all weepy. You know I hate that kind of thing. I just want you to be happy, Esme. That’s all I want.”

“I know. And I am. Happy. He makes me happy.”

She pats her daughter on the cheek and then backs away, arms crossed over her chest as Esme climbs into the SUV. “See you soon?” there’s a tone of hope in her voice.

Esme smiles. “I hope so.”

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fiction #tyler rake fan fic #chris hemsworth character #Sanctuary #extraction

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moonlitmoth · 4 years

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50 Questions

Tagged by @maladjustedchangeling

1. What is the colour of your hairbrush? Hot pink

2. Name a food you never ever eat. I hate mayonnaise and white cream based sauces (like alfredo) so much it’s a borderline fear. I hate fish, brussels sprouts, and asparagus. I love passionfruit flavored things but I’ve never been able to bring myself to eat the real thing because it looks so fucking weird. It’s like alien fruit.

3. Are you typically too warm or too cold? My hands are always cold but the rest of my body is pretty normal.

4. What were you doing 45 minutes ago? Watching Paper Moon with my dad.

5. What is your favourite candy bar? I’m generally a sour candy fan, but I like Take-5, Twix, and Kit Kat bars.

6. Have you ever been to a professional sports game? Just Dodger games. I actually like baseball (mostly playing it), it just takes too fucking long. I watch rugby on tv occasionally.

7. What is the last thing you said out loud? Let me preface this with a story: When my parents were dating my dad tried to teach my mom a little German, and instead of saying “danke” my mom thought it would be funny to say “donkey” so it’s just been a longstanding thing in my family where instead of saying “thank you” we say “donkey.” So my dad just made me dinner and I said “Donkey, daddy.”

8. What is your favourite ice cream? Cookies and cream or cookie dough, but I also like coffee ice cream. I also really like the circus animal cookie one you can get by the scoop from Rite Aid/ Thrifty, but I started making my own by adding crushed up animal cookies to cake batter ice cream and adding pink food coloring and a shit ton of rainbow sprinkles. It makes me so fucking happy.

9. What was the last thing you had to drink? Water

10. Do you like your wallet? Not really but a wallet’s a wallet.

11. What was the last thing you ate? A beyond burger.

12. Did you buy any new clothes last weekend? No. I keep thinking about buying myself come cute loungewear sets to wear around the house, but I really shouldn’t spend money on dumb shit right now given the current economic situation.

13. The last sporting event you watched? Um I watched a rodeo on tv a few months back. One of those big international ones.

14. What is your favorite flavor of popcorn? Kettle corn

15. Who is the last person you sent a text message to? My coworker/ friend

16. Ever go camping? Technically. I used to go every summer with my high school BFF and her family up to El Capitan State Park or Carpenteria (both on the beach) and camp at the grounds there. But it was hardly ever “roughing it.” Carpenteria’s just a little beach town so all we had to do was walk a block to go get our s’mores supplies lol I like camping though

17. Do you take vitamins? Yup

18. Do you go to church every Sunday? No, my family was never super religious in that way. I went to a parochial catholic school from K-12, so we had weekly mass anyway, so my parents didn’t have to take me. We mainly went on the big holidays like Easter and Christmas.

19. Do you have a tan? Nope

20. Do you prefer Chinese food over pizza? Yes

21. Do you drink your soda with a straw? Sometimes. I prefer soda from glass bottles

22. What color socks do you usually wear? Whatever is least noticeable and compliments the shoes i’m wearing.

23. Do you ever drive above the speed limit? Not really, too anxious.

24. What terrifies you? Mainly that there’s no life after death.

25. Look to your left, what do you see? My window

26. What chore do you hate most? Cleaning my room. I’ll clean other parts of the house to avoid cleaning my own room.

27. What do you think of when you hear an Australian accent? Honestly, no offense, but I find Australian accents super fucking annoying, though not as annoying as South African English. Like, omfg I can’t stand it.

28. What’s your favorite soda? Cherry Coke or Hansen’s Pomegranate soda, which is getting harder to find.

29. Do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive? Depends

30. What is your favourite number? 1017 because I’m a narcissist (my birthday), but also I have this thing where that number pops up a lot in my life.

31. Who’s the last person you talked to? My mom

32. Favourite cut of beef? I don’t really think about it. Probably just filet mignon.

33. Last song you listened to? New Order - Academic

34. Last book you read? Last one I finished was Waiting For the Punch by Marc Maron (I mostly read a lot of memoirs). I’m trying to read Deathless by Catherynne M. Valente, but it’s not really sucking me in unfortunately.

35. Favourite day of the week? I like the hope of a Friday night, knowing I’ve got 2 days to do something fun even though I’ll probably do nothing lol

36. Can you say the alphabet backwards? Probably but like who cares?

37. How do you like your coffee? Iced. I mostly like giant vanilla or pumpkin ice blends from Coffee Bean.

38. Favourite pair of shoes? Black chelsea block heel ankle boots. I’m also wearing my leopard slip on sneakers from H&M a lot. For my birthday this fall I’m planning on buying myself some over the knee boots and some Fluevog Cubist Cupcake boots (the witch boots of my dreams). I’m so excited.

39. The time you normally get up? Normally for work it’s 6:15am but these days more like 10am

40. What do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets? I’ve suddenly become a morning person the past few years.

41. How many blankets on your bed? 2 on top of a comforter.

42. Describe your kitchen plates. They're my grandma’s. Just white with turquoise polka dots around the edges.

43. Describe your kitchen at the moment? Uh..too small for the amount of people in the house. White, traditional cabinets with tan granite countertops and my grandma’s ugly lace curtains hanging on the window over the sink.

44. Do you have a favourite alcoholic drink? I rarely drink but I mix myself a Dirty Shirley sometimes.

45. Do you play cards? No

46. What colour is your car? Grey

47. Can you change a tire? Yes

48. Your favourite state? California, bitch. I don’t think I can live anywhere else.

49. Favourite job you’ve had? Haven’t had it yet

50. How did you get your biggest scar? I cracked my head open as a kid by falling backwards onto our coffee table while watching the cartoon version of Sleepy Hollow. Had to get staples in my head and everything.

I tag: @hausdushades @lyannawinterfell @crumboftheearth @copper-jay @maryreadings @nyxmalum

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fivedollarradio · 4 years

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This is born out of a conversation I had with someone on Twitter recently after a math teacher made a comment about her “girly” handwriting. She considered reporting it, but decided to let it slide as in no way did she feel demoralized or “unsafe” or whatever vocabulary one would use in a situation like this that is, at best, mildly unprofessional. A math teacher (maybe it’s a thing with them?) once described my own overly large scrawl as “grandma handwriting” (I should have come back with, “Nah, I’m just a raging narcissist”), but I also laughed it off as he was one of my best teachers. It got me thinking, though. of other thing male -- and it was always male -- teachers said to me that I never thought to report or even grumble about to myself, as you didn’t do that, lest you want to be seen as a whiny bitch. A gym teacher called me “spaghetti arms” in from of the class (granted, me attempting a push-up is like watching a rag doll being thrown to the ground). Embarrassing? Yes. But gym teachers are assholes by trade. The home room teacher who said he like to slowly roll his pencil off the edge of the desk when a girl was around so he could stare down her blouse as she picked it up. That one crossed the line, but without evidence that he assaulted a student, I didn’t think to say anything. I would have been laughed out of the office anyway. In college I had an anthropology prof break lecture just to tell me how dark my eyes were. Weird. Inappropriate, but my main thought was “what kind of aryan community are you living in where you’re amazed by brown eyes? You’re an anthropology professor. Shouldn't you know that most of the world has dark eyes?” It wasn’t admiration. (Same guy also commented on another girl’s braids so maybe he was just racist dick.) Anyway, these are, in my mind, fairly tame examples, but seeing what people complain about now makes me wonder. I never felt harmed or unsafe around any of these men, but again, there wasn’t a narrative in place where I thought I COULD complain. I was more afraid of the 90 lb. nun with the ping-pong paddle.

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stormynarancia · 6 years

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Get to Know Me Tag

mkay guess I got tagged in this so like let's do it I guess

Rules: Tag 10 followers you'd like to get to know better

Birth year: 2000

Star Sign: Scorpio

Height: 164 cm (5'3)

Put your playlist on shuffle and list the first 4 songs:

Valkyrie - ONEUS

One and Only - B.I (iKON)

Hala Hala - ATEEZ

Giddy Up - The Boyz

Grab the nearest book to you, turn to page 23, what is line 17?

"Dogmatix doesn't like people hurting trees... He loves trees... I won't do it again Dogmatix, I promise!" - Asterix and the Normans

(I don't have books I have comics rip)

Have you ever had a song or poem written about you?

I don't think so? I hope not, I really don't like that kind of romantic gesture and if somebody did write a song/poem about me, tbh I'd find it a little bit disturbing.

(omg I sound so mean in that sentence T~T I promise I'm not mean)

When was the last time you played air guitar?

...today.

Celebrity Crushes?

Choi San (ATEEZ), Jung Wooyoung (ATEEZ), Han Jisung (Stray Kids), Kim Hanbin (iKON) and Im Changkyun (Monsta X)!!

What's a sound that you hate? Love?

Hate: the sound of nails been drawn down a chalkboard, tearing paper, scraping and dragging feet on the ground.

Love: my own laughter (I'm not narcissistic, the sound of my laughter actually makes me laugh, so like, I'm still laughing 5 minutes after something funny has happened), other people's laughter, tHe sOUnD oF kANg yEOsAnG'S bEaUTiFUL sINgInG vOIcE 😩😩 gIVE hIM lINeS kQ

Do you believe in ghosts?

Not really, but I'm a paranoid bitch so whenever I hear some weird noise I go, "aw shit I'm gonna get possessed tonight"

Do you believe in aliens?

Of course! We can't really be the only life in the universe, can we? I don't go hunting for aliens, but I definitely think that they exist.

Do you drive? If so, have you crashed?

Yep! I can definitely drive, and nope, I haven't crashed. At least not yet anyways.

What was the last book you read?

uhh I don't know if comics count as books, but the last thing I read was Asterix and the Soothsayer.

Do you like the smell of gasoline?

Weird question but kinda, I can tolerate the smell but I'm not gonna go sniffing around for the stuff.

Last movie you've seen?

Bohemian Rhapsody! I went to go see it with my grandma, and I thought it was a really good movie!

Worst injury you've ever had?

I've never had an injury worse than a bruised rib.

Do you have any obsessions right now?

Just K-Pop for now lmao, and I wouldn't call it an obsession but I'm also into anime!

Do you tend to hold grudges?

It depends on who the person is and what they did!

In a relationship?

ahahahahahahahahahahahahaha

nope :D

okie dokie I'll tag @yukheiismylady @uwu-seungminnie @kazsou @42racha @cutieyeosanggie @kqfellazbitch @peachyeosang @choichanheehee @jamjamismyjam and @hellevatored

I hope most of these people actually follow me lol

please don't hesitate to ask me questions about my questionable answers

#get to know me #not incorrect quotes

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dramaphan · 5 years

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I keep getting tagged in this so here we go.

Rules: answer 21 questions and tag 21 people

Nickname: My irl nickname is Pamela for reasons you would never understand, and as for on tumblr? Y’all call me all sorts of shit. But grandma drama is a fave of mine.

Zodiac: I’m a Pisces, bitch. Also I’m a Leo moon and Cancer rising so if someone who knows astrology could tell me wtf that means that would be great thank you.

Height: 5ft 7

Last movie I watched: I think it might have actually been Bird Box. I don’t watch movies like ever.

Last thing I googled: "whats my most popular instagram” because I’m a narcissistic bitch.

Favorite musician music artist/s: Okay I’ve had a weird thing for youtubers turned musician lately and I’ve been Loving Emma Blackery and Gabbie Hanna’s music. But if you want to go a more traditional route I’ve also been listening through the entire discography of Three Days Grace.

Song stuck in my head: Last night I couldn’t stop humming Havana by Camila Cabello for whatever reason.

Other blogs: This is a sideblog but I literally don’t use my main

Followers: 942 at the time of posting.

Amount of sleep: I work night shifts so I sleep during the day and I can usually get a solid 4 hours. On my days off when I actually get to sleep at night I sleep for like 10.

Lucky number: I’ve always been drawn to 5′s and 3′s for some reason.

Dream job: I’m loving what I do now but I’ve always wanted to go into paramedicine or maybe career firefighting. But we shall see.

What I’m wearing: My PJ’s, if you must know. Pink and white plaid bottoms and a T-shirt that reads “Strong women become Firefighters.”

Favorite food: I will fuck up a mac and cheese any day of the week.

Language: English. And some rusty conversational french.

Can I play an instrument: I would be one hell of a guitarist if I bothered to pick the thing up more than once a month.

Favorite song: I have been living and dying for the Bad Wolves cover of Zombie since it came out last year.

Random fact: You can hollow out a giant pumpkin and paddle it across a lake like a boat if you really want to.

Describe yourself aesthetically: I want to be edgy and androgynous so bad but I just end up lookin like a little boy but thats also a good look so I’ll take it.

Book I’m currently reading: I’ve been really into poetry books lately and I’m currently reading “The Mermaids Voice Returns in This One” by Amanda Lovelace.

Series I’m trying to finish: I’ve been watching RuPaul’s Drag race and I literally can’t stop.

I hereby tag these 21 people…

Girl I don’t think I even know 21 people if you see this and you want to do it just do it and say I tagged you.

#also feel free to hit me up if you want me to elaborate on anything

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sweet-xoxo-thatcares · 3 years

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I need an Opt Out

Home is starting to feel like the summer camp that you can't get out of.

Same ol' tree, same ol' bed with ants that keep playing hide and seek, same old food, and the same camp counselors.

I'm tired of being stuck in the same spot, just because my life situations make me feel like I can't go anywhere else new.....

Like Grand Rapids without Grandma?? I don't even wanna know how empty that's gonna feel..

I wanna leave Flint. Most definitely.

Anywhere else without manipulative abuse triggers won't trigger me into thinking about an ex I shouldn't be thinking about because overall they're abusive, selfish, emotionally exhausting, and toxic.

And really I'd rather just not live where I'm constantly reminded of people who let me down and disappointed me. I'd rather move.

Anywhere where there's no more pain, no more being limited by other people's opinion or control, no more being replaced and labeled something other people think that I am.

No more feeling pressured to people-please and kiss ass.

When does my life start? It feels like everybody else gets to move and move on from me, but me...I'd like to be happy moving on, not stuck and miserable. And saying this makes me feel pathetic, to even compare myself to two people who are the worst human beings on the planet, with double standards.

They think they can hurt other people and not deserve to get hurt back. The idiots really think its ok to abandon, neglect, and take advantage of the people and that they can get away with it. Evil people like them don't deserve kindness....

Then I hear my old values saying "let em' go." "Love em' like Jesus"

God knows how hard it was to walk away from somebody I loved so deeply, but toxic enough because they still chose to hurt me, push me out, and not even consider to tell me that they were turning into a man.

They totally left that part out, and I still have to forgive somebody I didn't wanna love, so I hate. And I didn't wanna hate, but they're gone. And I'm mad they're still are.

It wouldn't have had to be this way if they hadn't forgot about me and let me go without even a care in the world. Jay never cared about me like more than just a friend, and it showed. They treated me lower than all their other friends, they treated me like I was an unwanted pet, supposed to wait until Master came to fetch them and then put me back into the friend zone whenever they wanted to keep on being with somebody else who was just as controlling and narcissistic as them. I hate little girls with condescending, controlling perspectives or personas. Any one who reminds me of her, her, and her...I'm done, I'm done messing with chicks who start off nice and sweet for two weeks, then switch it up....leaving me to hang myself and they act like it wasn't any of their faults that I crawled back into the dark. They tortured my big, heart full of sunshine and light enough to make me hide it and guard it just as bad as them. Maybe even worse...

Be careful how you bleed, I think that'll be my next life lesson.

Cause its an old, but recent wound being triggered and hindered. I feel like I have to put a pause on my healing unto Grandma is ready, because how can I truly be happy at a time like this?

Happiness right now feels fake, because right after my fun moment is over, she's still in the back of my head waiting on me for me to say how great of a person she is at her funeral.

Our funeral, cause I fear that a part of my heart will die that very same day, and I don't know what I'll turn into. Cause I hate that bitch I love, I hate my heart for still loving her abusive ass. Like wtf do victims who didn't even know that they were being abused (other than physically) because it was too late and their hearts were filled with dreams and lies about love, ended up falling for the wrong person.

Cause the one person who made me feel safe and comfortable, was the same one that hurt me the most and still do feel so betrayed by them. I'll feel love the same way again. Like now I can't even trust who I feel my heart wants to be close to.

I knew something was wrong, something was missing, that title, being recognized as even more beautiful than the one they knew was a downgrade compared to me (even though they both tried to downplay me and I get more hits on Tinder than them...dafuq, I got options) the mutual respect, compassion, care, and the fucking flip the blame on me for not wanting to be neglected and blocked as some sort of punishment because I've experienced abandonment issues....like wtf?

Why does pain like this link to all the other painful experiences I've been through this year and last?

Like why do I have to remember so much, yet they don't even remember the shit they said and did to me? They don't even remember the pain they caused me, for so many moments that feels like years, because my broke heart replays them.

And I don't wanna rerun back into them. Cause History repeats itself. I won't let them back into my life, nor do we need to be associated.

They're crazy, I'm crazy...we just don't match and yea they're a fucking cunt who doesn't understand that that's not how you treat a woman and still guilt tripping her into staying when you treat her like shit, and like you don't want her is so fucking childish, immature, selfish, humiliating and retarded. Somebody really needs to kick their ass and I hope that its a woman who finally got sick of their silly little games and tricks.

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smolhobireacts · 6 years

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lets say that when she started htting me for losing s contact and not wanting to waste my other one or when she basically disregarded my feelings when i said i was being bullied when I was a kid, or when she laughed on my face when I said both of the creatures i refuse to call parents kept insulting me for no reason, belittling me, or threatening me just bcs i didnt want to hang out with them and made me want to consider suicide huh, makes me feel ... angry. my grandma was the one who raised me

my grandma for me is my real mother. sadly enough, she also went through the same at her husband ‘s hand. i believe she suffers from depression but never got diagnosed as she often says she sometimes wishes she just could be happy. well my bloodline is full of narcissists like these. so if i can cut contact with most of them and work abroad like here in japan it would be great. i even saw some of them trying to hit my dog, and it was the last drop

yeah i basically had the same job most of the people ghere had, and earned decently, worked hard for it. but it just wasn’t for me, specially with how later on her abusive tebdebcies started showing off even more than usual as in scarring my arms, pushing me or slapping me for no good reason. also defending the pos of a ‘ father ‘ i have that always insulted, belittled me or shouted for no reason and when he tried to kick my dog? it was the last drop. i almost killed myself due this all

for me, my grandma is my true mother. even when i was a kid, they were always encouraging me to follow my dreams and she always genuinely cares for me. which is why the day i lose her, I probably will lose a bit of light in my world because she’s one of the only ones who don’t mistreat me in any way whatsoever in my bloodline.

My grandma was pretty abusive to my mum, she’s a narcissist and a sociopath so I can understand why you would want to get away. Luckily I don’t have anything to do with 98% of my family other than my parents and my brother and grandfather. It sounds like a horrible experience no one should go through, I’m going to assume you’re over 18? With how they treat not only you but others, animals too, you should as a suggestion maybe report them? Animal abuse on its own is bad enough, but abuse to children as well will certainly not be ignored, but if you don’t want to do this (i understand dw) you should cut them out completely. Moving away might not be enough, they may still contact you, then again it is all up to you. But it doesn’t sound that great, I really do hope you can get away. I hate the idea that you’re suffering like that :( I’m glad though you have someone nice in your family, definitely do everything you can to stay in contact with her! Make sure to show you love her each day because life is short. and im SO happy you didn’t kill yourself.

#kawaii---ness #asks

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stressedgoblinboi · 4 years

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I got a new computer, my old one finally broke down on me. This one has more space and I’m actually able to do things on it. I forgot how much I hated job searching, sending in an application and waiting anxiously to see if it was a yes or a no - then some companies don’t even tell you if its a no, they just never get back to you. Point is it sucks, though things could be worse.

My grandpa (moms side) and my dad recently got in a big argument over politics and aren’t on speaking terms anymore. Both are to stubborn to apologize or admit it was a stupid thing to fight about. My mom and grandma (dad side) haven’t been on speaking terms since last year, grandma’s always been a two faced bitch though... she’s a narcissist and unlike me and her other family mom would not put up with that shit anymore - I shouldn’t put up with it either, most of my mental and emotional abuse comes from her, but she conditioned me to feel guilty whenever I actually tell her no and now I don’t know how to stop that.

Since I have some free time I might actually upload to my youtube channel again. I think I wanna do an audio/visual form of what I do on here - if I do I’ll post a link to the channel in one of my other posts.

Something I have realized about myself: While I am strictly Gay, I actually quite like Anime girls - its odd but I found it interesting.

#Gob Boys Journal #Journal Entry #Entry 3 #actual trauma #trauma #abuse #mental abuse #emotional abuse #family

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oldladydatin · 5 years

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Unfiltered

Yesterday I got a notification from tumblr to write something unfiltered, to be brave. Well I’ve had something on my mind alot lately, something I’d normally be afraid to share. I’ve been thinking about it because I’ve been having nightmares, about none other than Eric. I’ve had nightmares off and on, frequently not so much nightmares as just recalling things he did to me. When I told him I didn’t want him in my life anymore I was afraid, for many reasons. Besides the actual physical attacks I endured there were other strange things that had happened. I remember going to Vegas with Mark and he just stopped talking to me and of course I was hurt but I started to feel okay after awhile. Then I received a text and he said he had been in jail and he was embarrassed about it and asked to see me. I didn’t know if I wanted to see him, I tried to get out of it by being like well when I get out of work I’m going grocery shopping and I’m tired whatever. Normal people would say okay well it doesn’t have to be today but no he insisted, he said he’d see me after, I really didn’t want to see him. I got home and took a shower first because I felt gross from work and by the time I got out of the shower he had texted me to ask if I was home yet. I got dressed and texted back that I had and he said he was near by then boom he was at my door. It was like an uncomfortably short amount of time. Like he had been outside when I got home or something. It made me really nervous. He made comments like if he wanted to know if something was going on he wouldn’t ask me he’d find out other ways. He was telling me about a book Dave Chapelle discussed in his stand up about this pimp. He told me that this pimp made his girls loyal by beating them excessively with a coat hanger and then taking care of them all weekend so in the end they were grateful. He had this really uncomfortable look on his face, I remember feeling sick by that, because it was like he thought that was genuinely a great idea. Just some really inconsistent things. Between that and everything I experienced I was all too aware he might really be mentally ill and I might set him off by not wanting him in my life anymore. I also knew I had these really strong feelings about him that I didn’t always feel in control of so I posted on facebook that I changed my number because of him and that I hadn’t been completely honest about our relationship and that he had attacked me more than once, non consensually, unfairly, and I just wanted him out of my life. I guess I felt like that was the best way to, burn that bridge, I felt like if people in my life knew how unhealthy this was that I wouldn’t go back and people in my life would only reinforce this. I changed my locks, I put a few extra cameras up incase he showed up and attacked me again and I promised myself I’d press charges the next time. I smudged my room because I felt uncomfortable in my room, I got the new car and I had the windows tinted day one, and I parked my car in the garage so he wouldn’t know if I was coming or going incase he really did do something crazy. I joined this group on facebook with women who were abused because I didn’t understand ya know, how did I let this go on, how did I end up with this guy. Not that I necessarily think I’m better than others I think I’m better than this and how on earth did I end up here. So I’ve been having the nightmares again and I’m on this page and some girl posted that the women in this group should stop whining and they’re to blame etc etc and it hit a nerve. My best friend said something like what were you thinking you know better than to let someone put their hands on you. I corrected her because the most terrifying points I fought I didn’t let this happen to me, maybe by allowing him in my life after and thinking it wouldn’t happen again but I didn’t just do nothing. But I can’t help but wonder what led up to me being in this situation? Or honestly any of these fucked up situations I’ve found myself in. How did I end up married to a man who put me down and beat my kids? I think that’s a legitimate question because I don’t want to spend my life being a battered woman. So what started as a decision to not waste so much time dating and focus on my goals, has turned into maybe I need to be single and celibate until I’m healthy, maybe I need to stop dating and work on myself.

One thing I think led to this is being raised in an abusive household. There’s a real culture of abuse in my family. When I was growing up both my parents were abusive. I don’t have a lot of good memories of my childhood. I remember being called a bitch, fat, lazy, stupid, you name it, by BOTH my parents. In middle school I was seeing a therapist because I was really depressed and anxious and she wanted to have me tested for ADHD, I was failing classes, and I wasn’t really trying but I was also having trouble focusing on anything. I don’t know that I had or ever had ADHD, as a grown up I realize depression and anxiety can cause difficulty with focus but I knew things weren’t okay. My son is ADHD and his therapist says there’s a lot of evidence it’s genetic, so it’s possible. So I brought this up to my Dad. My Dad blew up and threw a book at my face and told me there was nothing wrong with me that I was just a lazy ass bitch who needed to open a book, it hurt enough I remember it 30 years later. I remember being beat with an axe handle because I ran out the door to go play and the door didn’t close and my Dad said it was because I didn’t shut the door but I knew I had, so I wouldn’t say I left it open. He beat me until I had bruises and I remember screaming because I was worried about getting hit with the sharp part of the axe. Turned out the door was broken and wouldn’t latch. I remember my Mom pinning me down on the bed and slapping and punching me because I laughed at an inappropriate time. I watched my brothers head dent my wall from the other side of the wall because my Dad threw his head threw it. My friend recently told me she didn’t want to stay the night at my house when we were kids because one time when she was over my Dad pulled my pants down and beat me with a hair brush and then made me sit on the couch and watch everyone else eat cookies and they kept trying to get her to join in. I was frequently denied food. Even as a grown up I wouldn’t go see this doctor my Mom swore by because I remember as a 3rd grader he encouraged my parents to put me on a 1000 calorie diet. I remember crying and begging my Mom for food because I was so hungry. My Dad tried to put me on the slim fast diet that same year, and then tried to convince me to go to a fat camp, and I look at pictures of me during this time and I wasn’t even that overweight. My weight has always been a subject of ridicule from both my parents, even as an adult. I went home when I was pregnant with my son because I was sick and and needed help. I ended up septic with cellulitis and I was holding ice packs on my stomach to sleep because they wouldn’t take me to the ED because they felt nothing was wrong. My Dad told me the only thing that was wrong with me was that my fat ass needed to get up and do more. The night before I ended up in the hospital for two months they took me to the mall for my birthday so I could walk because they didn’t feel like I was moving enough. Then tried to take me to Applebees for my birthday because they had a low fat menu. I had just turned 30 and I was home and they initially forgot my birthday so this insult was their attempt to make amends. After I realized that they’d forgot my birthday I took my daughter to get ice cream and go to the beach alone. For my ex husbands birthday they threw him a surprise party, for me as an after thought they tried to make me go to a restaurant I didn’t even like because they had a menu that would hopefully help me not be such a fat ass. The kicker, everyone in my family is overweight, not just me. Infact I look like my Dad in that respect. I remember going to my Grandmas house when I was 8 or 9 and passing a cemetery and wishing I was there, my Dad had just beat the shit out of me for getting an attitude with him or something that earned a seriously disproportionate reaction, and then he made me go to the bathroom and wash my face with cold water which he always did if we were crying too hard and then he was taking me to my Grandmas because he had to do something over there. I just thought if this is what my life is going to be like I’d rather be dead. To be honest the happiest my parents have ever been with me was when I married my husband. In therapy I read a book about a narcissistic Dad and it was creepy how similar the Dad in the book was to my Dad. All the way down to pitting siblings against each other. Because to this day my brother and sister and I are in some giant competition with each other for my parents approval. I’ve opted out, it’s why I didn’t move home because while I could recognize that Eric and my ex were damaging to my life, I could recognize my parents are just as damaging to it. The really crazy thing is my Dad and Mom will tell me how happy or proud they are of my brother and sister but never that they’re happy or proud of me. But over the years I’ve come to realize they do this to them in regards to me. So we are all trying to get their approval because they won’t ever compliment me to me or my sister to my sister. Now they do this with their grandkids, so my sister and sister in law are in some war over this, I’ve opted out. I will occasionally find myself getting upset because my kids are frequently forgotten but then I think about my childhood and I think maybe that’s a good thing. I don’t want my kids exposed to this. I think all these experiences really groomed me to be okay with being abused. Then of course as a teenager I dated a guy who cheated on me and lied to me all the time, like ALL THE TIME. I didn’t ever stand up for myself, I think now I maybe didn’t realize I deserved to be treated better. Then I was raped, I never said anything to anyone about that. Infact the guy showed up to lunch and asked me to go riding around with him the next monday like nothing happened. My best friend knew something happened. I was hanging at her house and he showed up and I acted really weird as she said and then I took off. She kept asking me what happened, what he did, and all I said was she’d be smart to keep him out of her house and away from her daughter. I was so ashamed and I just wanted to pretend like nothing had happened.

Eventually I got married and he was everything I could’ve asked for. He made me feel safe and confident. He was calm and always happy. When we left Michigan and my husband started working in his professional job, something changed. He really started to treat me like he was better than me or something. I was struggling so much at that point with post pardum depression and I initially felt like it was because I was letting him down because I sometimes couldn’t get out of bed. I ended up in the hospital for weeks at a time, I was on drugs. But even as I started to recover he did this and it gradually got worse. Nursing school pushed him over the edge. He frequently told people I wouldn’t do it I’d just quit. He started putting me down really passive aggressively, then more directly. I’d ask him to help me or ask him to do something around the house and it was almost like he intentionally wouldn’t just because I asked, it really was that childish. We fought constantly about money and housework, from the beginning. He didn’t do housework, I almost didn’t marry him over this. We got engaged and moved in together and I quickly found out that he was gross. That sounds mean but it’s true. We have actually thrown away 2 stoves because he will not clean the stove top, but he insists on cooking. So no matter how big my workload was I was still expected to do all the housework. So when I worked 70 hours a week, with a new born and post pardum depression, to put him through college I was expected to clean just like I did when I was a stay at home mom or a freelance artist. When I was going to school full time, working part time and still doing everything I did with the kids like I did when I was a stay at home mom, I was still expected to do 100% of the house work. I was exhausted. If I spent money on myself at all it caused a fight. We struggled with bills, and even when I was struggling to feed the kids he wouldn’t work overtime. He also insisted on getting an allowance so that all his money didn’t go to bills and even if I was struggling to feed the kids he insisted on an allowance, that was also exhausting. He would tell the kids we didn’t have the money to do anything because I wasted all of our money when in reality there just wasn’t enough money. He frequently involved the kids in our fights. He’d make fun of me in front of them and his friends. The abuse towards the kids didn’t start until they got older. At first I honestly didn’t even recognize it as abuse, it wasn’t that much different than what I experienced growing up. We’d occasionally have fights about that, if I felt like he went too far I’d bring it up and we’d fight. If he called the kids names I’d get mad. He frequently called my daughter a bitch. I think of all the things I dealt with growing up the name calling was the worst, being put down was the worst. To this day I hear my Dads voice in my head calling me fat and stupid and lazy. So I was really sensitive to that. It was like well she talked back of course she should get smacked across the face, she lied or whatever. Until my daughter lost it at school and admitted she was planning to kill herself. My 7 year old was having the same thoughts I had as a kid driving past a cemetery. I cried and cried and cried, because I knew exactly what she was feeling. I rarely hit my kids, like occasional spankings and never when I was mad. I just felt like after the things I had gone through with my parents I had the potential of going too far and I didn’t want to hurt my kids. With that though I knew I had to make changes, it was no longer optional. It’s sad that him insulting me wasn’t enough to make me leave though? Isn’t it? The first time he stood there with a bunch of people and made jokes about how stupid I was, while I held back tears because I felt so hurt and betrayed by that, should’ve been the first time I thought about leaving. But my self worth was so bad that him treating me like that wasn’t what made me want to leave, it was him hurting my kids. But what did I do? I clung to another man who would only treat me worse?

There were many occasions where Eric did things that should’ve been a red flag. I came to see him, and mind you I lived 210 miles away so it wasn’t a small thing to come see him at that time. I’d get here he’d have time to have sex and then he’d leave and that was it. So I’d make comments that all he wanted from me was sex and he’d say no no and give me some line. But it was, that’s all the relationship he wanted from me. I never came back from seeing him and was happy, I didn’t like feeling used and cheap but I don’t know why I just had these feeling for him. Then there was the time he used me to get a blow job and then just took off and never came back and laid in bed and cried. I felt incredibly used, but again I continued to see him. I wish these were the worst things that he had done to me, I really do. The first time he was violent was one fall I drove to see him after my night shift job, so worked 12 hours and then drove 3.5 hours to see him because I was just so in love and he said come take a nap with me so I did. I remember feeling so happy that he wanted to see me. I get here and he tells me he’s mad that I failed a test and he grabbed me by my throat and pushed up until I was on my tippy toes and told me he was upset. He proceeded to “punish” me. He took his phone out and took pictures during this, which I was upset about, I didn’t say anything though, I tried to ignore it but I was upset about it, during, after, everytime he brought the pictures up. We didn’t talk about pictures, we didn’t talk about punishment, we didn’t discuss any of this, the pictures weren’t consensual. To tell you how much I trusted this guy I was also in love with, after I left his house I did nothing but worry he’d share them, or put them online, I was so stressed out, I still to this day worry about it. This evolved from being beat with a cane, to him biting me and staring at me like he was hoping to make me cry, to him deciding to fist me. I didn’t want to be fisted either, we hadn’t talked about that but he did it and he kept doing it until he said he wanted to hear me screaming. Like he wanted to hurt me. Then he almost abruptly threw me out, grabbed a bunch of stuff in a giant hurry and left. The days proceeding this were shocking. So by the time I got to my friends house my whole vagina had swelled up, like this was actually a lot of trauma, to the point where I got to her house and struggled to pee. More shocking than this I told him about it and he didn’t really care. Like if I had done something to someones penis that caused it to swell up I’d be horrified and I’d go see them or I’d act really remorseful but he didn’t do anything. When I was at his house I had this feeling that there was someone else. Like he really might have done this to me then threw me out like trash to go see his girlfriend or something? Slowly the swelling improved over the next day, he didn’t check up on me to see if it was better, like he truly didn’t care that he had hurt me. With the bdsm stuff if I was with someone trying new things like that we would have some pretty extensive after care, but there would have been some pretty extensive discussion before hand too and there wasn’t. Like if it had been someone else I would have stayed the night, or if I had called to say there was an issue they would’ve come to me or insisted I would’ve come to them, something. There would have been more support. But this wasn’t bdsm this was abuse, I was just entertainment and he had been entertained and it was over. That week I went to look at his page on this bdsm site and he blocked me. He tried to play it off like no he just deleted his account but I’ve family that’s on the same site and I asked my cousin to look, my cousin by the way hates this guy, she thinks he is everything that makes the bdsm community look bad. He still had his page. He denied it and denied it, but I had no idea why he blocked me, but I had had that feeling there was another girl. I didn’t want to keep asking my cousin to look so my friend and I created another page and just kept checking and a month or so later I confirmed it was another girl. This would be the first time he told me he loved me, it wasn’t because he loved me, it was because I was leaving because I knew he was lying. I have no clue why he cared? He was just trying to protect his occasional piece of ass? I have no idea, because I knew he didn’t care about me. He really did at this point suspend his account and he said whatever he had to to smooth things over. I think why didn’t I leave him alone at that? Every bit of that should’ve made me think okay I’m in a relationship with a horrible person. But no what did I do? I made plans to move there, because while he was abusing me he said something that stuck to me, he said I needed to get through nursing school so I could come home to him. That really impacted me emotionally. I have no idea why you’d say something so profound if you didn’t mean it? Just like why would you tell someone you loved them if you didn’t? I can’t answer that because I am not a bad person, so I don’t act like that. I don’t abuse the people in my life, so I don’t know how to explain the behavior of someone who does. In the end I made excuses for all of this. I thought well I’ll talk to him about the pictures, maybe this was just punishment that went over board, maybe he doesn’t understand aftercare, he’s new to bdsm. He didn’t care, not about any of it, this wasn’t bdsm this was abuse.

Other than the fact that he was just a complete piece of shit who walked all over me nothing really violent happened for quite a long time. I moved here, he’d come for sex then ignore me. I’d see things or notice things here and there that made me aware there were others. I should’ve kicked him out of my life 10 billion times but didn’t. I don’t know why, I feel like this is a problem, I think the fact that I allowed any of his behavior into my life is a giant red flag that maybe something is wrong with me, but I did. Eventually we were allegedly dating, because there were still others, so I was committed but he was not and I remember we had a conversation about how I some of my needs weren’t being met. He came over one night and it was rough, but quickly felt out of control to me. I remember fighting back, I don’t remember this as vividly but I remember him wrapping my hair around my bed frame and tying my feet together and beating me with my canes, and I remember crying. I remember thinking this can’t be happening to me. I remember laying there, not being able to fight him anymore thinking it was over, I really couldn’t be with this guy anymore. I remember he’d beat me and randomly stop and fuck me and I felt disgusted by the fact that he was turned on. Because I was screaming and crying. I don’t know about most people but if I have to pin and tie down the person I’m sleeping with while they are screaming and crying, I wouldn’t be in the mood anymore. Even with the sadists I had been with there would always be a point where they knew I was at my limit and the focus wouldn’t be sexual anymore. But this man was not only in the mood he was continuing. I don’t completely remember why I was being punished, but this was allegedly punishment for something. I remember crying and laying still and just saying Daddy, because that’s what I called him, and then he stopped for no reason. He let me go and he held me until I calmed down. Alot of times by the end of these things he made me feel like I had done something good for him, like I had made him happy and we’d have sex. I didn’t always want to but I felt like I had to. The bad thing about this was my daughter heard it, she heard him hitting me and me screaming and crying. When he left I walked out of my room and she was on the stairs crying, she was scared but didn’t know what to do, she was considering calling the cops. I didn’t know what to say to her? I wanted our new place to feel safe to her so I didn’t want to tell her what had happened. I played it off like we were just having a little fun and I was sorry she heard it. She still brings it up but now she thinks I’m loud when I have sex. I should have ended it there, because now it was effecting my kids but I didn’t. And this just got worse. Again I played this off like we just really needed to talk about it, that this wasn’t acceptable punishment and I was going to tell him that. He didn’t care, because this wasn’t a bdsm relationship, this was an abusive one.

Eventually someone sends me this picture of him with another girl and I had to do something. Again that should’ve just been it but I thought well maybe he’ll just be honest with me now and we’d talk to out? I’ve had friends who had a spouse cheat and they went to counseling and their relationship was actually stronger. I thought maybe we’d work together and have a stronger relationship, maybe he’d be honest with me. He wasn’t, cause this wasn’t that guy, he didn’t really care about me or our relationship. He said he ended it with the other girl, he’d give me really inconsistent information about their relationship. I messaged her, the only question I had was does he call you princess, she didn’t respond, if she had I probably would’ve ended it because I’m sure he did, it wasn’t special to him just to me. When it seemed obvious he didn’t care I got on a dating app and started talking to men. One day he came to my house, it was a saturday morning, at the time I worked friday nights. And he acted like he wanted to see me, like he wanted sex, and we start having sex, this is the time I remember vividly. I was on my stomach and he wrapped his wife beater around my neck and pulled. At first this felt good I like to be choked but soon my fingers and toes started tingling and everything started sounding muffled. I remember feeling stunned like I wasn’t completely sure of what was happening. Then I heard him say so you want to send pictures to other men huh? And I legit panicked I knew what was going to happen next I was terrified and I started to try to fight to get away and he forced my hands into the restraints on my bed with me screaming and crying, please don’t, please stop. I was kicking and the was sitting on my legs. this went on for what seemed like forever. Just like the time before he beat me with my canes, he broke one, he bite me, he pulled my hair, he choked me, he stopped randomly and fucked me, all while I was crying and screaming and trying to fight him off me. I was begging him to stop. My kids weren’t home this time. I remember thinking about my friend Lori. I had a friend who was killed by her fiance when she ended it. She was beat in the head with a hammer, thrown in her car, drove a ways up the highway, and then he parked on the side of the road and set the car on fire and hitch hiked home. I thought I’m going to end up just like Lori, I really was afraid he was going to kill me. He wasn’t stopping, he didn��t care, he was sexually excited by this. I just kept thinking it’s over and I’m not being dramatic, I was that afraid. I decided at some point to try to get the restraints off my wrists and I managed to and that’s when he stopped. He got off me and I jumped off the bed and just cried, I was terrified of him. He kept trying to make it about other stuff, he kept saying over and over he loved me. He clearly didn’t love me. I cried the entire day, he got me to calm down long enough for him to leave and I started crying again. I thought about calling the cops, I was covered in bruises. I remember getting up for work because I had to go to work and he came back and I was scared. He brought roses, I really felt like I was in some stupid lifetime movie, he brought roses, he sexually tortured me and then he brought me roses. What a psycho! We had sex and I didn’t want to, I wanted him to leave, but I was afraid. It was very affectionate sex, like maybe he knew he went too far this time. I don’t think he felt sorry but I think he knew it wasn’t ok. It was the worst day. I remember walking into my job having not slept, having cried all day and being covered in bruises and I couldn’t even hold my purse on my shoulders. Through all the fighting I didn’t realize how bruised I was. I went in the bathroom and took pictures, I still have them, I was covered in bruises. I found bruises on my legs, back, breasts, stomach, I was covered. I used to get excited about bruises, it was like a reminder of a fun time. These made me sick to my stomach. There were other incidents after this but mostly he had basically bailed on me at that point. But he came over and we were going to have sex. I had bought this vibrator a guy I had went to this concert with had wanted me to buy so we could use it together because he lived like 3 hours away. I bought it but him and I weren’t seeing eachother and eventually I shared it with Eric. We tried to use it once but it didn’t go well and he claimed to want to see how it worked. He pulled my shirt over my head while we were having sex and I was nervous because he had his phone out to use the app and he had taken pictures of me without asking me permission before. So I was worried. It wasn’t until later that I found out that yes he did take a video of me with my shirt pulled over my head. Then he started threatening me. Eventually he started threatening to carve his initials in my boob and I just started crying. I was so scared of him, I thought he’d do it. I screamed and I cried and he stopped. He said you know I’d never do anything to hurt you. But he had, on multiple occasions. He absolutely would have. After that I changed my locks. After that I knew it was over, despite every little thing that happened after that, I was actually afraid of him and I knew this would continue no matter what I did. I have on occasion thought about going to the cops with my pictures and asking what I could do. More so because I remember that feeling of finding out my rapist had raped other people, I felt like I could’ve stopped it. Clearly this man is dangerous, maybe I could stop it. The charges he is already on probation for are all the same things he did to me. I think the fact that he did this to someone else and he got a year of probation is disgusting. It says a lot about how and why so much violence against women happens. And it’s why I didn’t go to the cops because they obviously didn’t care about who ever he hurt before me. After the nightmares lately I’m definitely considering therapy. I think maybe it’s good to take time from dating and work on myself because he did break me, and the worst part is he’s not even sorry.

So now I am paranoid about things in my life. I broke down on the side of the road close to my house and I panicked, I called everyone whose number I knew because I felt like I wasn’t safe, I felt like I had finally got him out of my life and I had finally broke that hold he had over my mind and I felt vulnerable sitting there on the side of the road. When my friend showed up I was shaking and I couldn’t even explain it. I did eventually tell her that that guy I was seeing he had hurt me and I just knew if he saw me on the side of the road he’d stop and if he’d stop I’d be in love all over again and he could hurt me again. Turned out she had been in an abusive relationship before and she completely understood. She helped me get my car home and now I feel a lot less alone. I got my new car and took it the next day to get it tinted, I was insanely insistent it happened immediately. I didn’t want to be driving around and have him see me in my new car incase he is watching me. If I had the money I’d have moved immediately. But I feel stronger now and I don’t think I’d so easily let him in again. But I don’t want the next guy to be someone like him, or my ex, or my Dad, I deserve peace and happiness in my life. So I’m taking a break for myself. I’ve smudged my house now, my weird native friend Darcy who was convinced I was a healer had showed me how when I was a kid, he taught me a lot actually. I’ve a bag of stones he put together for me for protection and I took it out. I’ve smudged my room more than once now and I think it helped. I asked a friend of mine who deals in crystals what she thought because it still feels heavy upstairs and I ordered a large orb recently. My goal is peace and happiness, no matter how much sage and sweet grass I have to burn. But counseling I think is needed.

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