**TRIGGER WARNINGS**
i don't even know what triggers this sets off besides ALL of them.
last night my 16 year old son added me to instagram.
it was a surprise to say the least.
i haven't heard much from him since november.
there were a few angry/accusatory texts shortly after he moved.
a thank you text for his birthday gift in march.
there was a very angry/rude call a few weeks ago demanding an unknown password for an old iphone before being hung up on.
so to receive an instagram notice that he followed me was strange.
instagram was how he communicated for a very brief amount of time, so part of me was maybe even a little hopeful...is this the start of a reconciliation?
out of curiosity i clicked on his profile to see what he's been up to.
the first picture, just added to his story, right before following me, was a semi-automatic weapon laid out with the caption "colorado keeps getting better."
well.
thats.
terrifying.
colorado is where my ex-husband lives. the one that i had to divorce due to domestic violence.
so.
my 16 year old son who has threatened to kill himself and kill me is visiting my abuser in colorado.
and he posted a picture of a semi-automatic weapon directly before following me.
it felt like a direct attack.
he intentionally added me to make sure i saw the picture of the gun and the fact that he's in colorado.
i clicked on the second picture and it is of him getting a tattoo that reads something about family not being blood.
my 16 year old, getting a tattoo. about family not being blood.
i understand the sentiment. but he's 16. getting a tattoo.
and for whatever reason i clicked on one more photo, one of him, to see what he looks like now. and one of the comments was from my mothers husband. the man that sexually assaulted me and was grooming my son for abuse before i cut off all contact with my mother.
three generations of abuse on one social media platform: the man who sexually assaulted me. the man who abused me. and my son who has threatened me.
it was not a good night at my house last night.
i feel directly threatened.
my son posted a picture of a semi-automatic weapon and then followed me.
i believe this was intentional.
do you know how horrible it is to have that thought about your own child?
do you know how much worse it is to believe he would injure or kill you?
your own child?
knowing, absolutely, sickeningly knowing, he's picturing you when he's target practicing?
and i think, even worse, more that how threatening that felt, is the feeling of realizing, completely and for absolute sure, that people don't believe you.
i have never, ever hidden the reason i left my husband. it was domestic violence. there was a restraining order in effect. it was an abusive marriage.
i have never hidden that my mother's husband is a sexual predator. i may not have always been blunt and detailed about what happened but i have never hidden the reason i cut all communication and ties with my mother.
and yet, in the 8 months since leaving my house, the adults in my son's life have allowed him to reconnect with the man that was grooming him for abuse and the man that did assault me.
they allowed him to reconnect with someone with a long history of domestic violence.
it is crystal clear that people don't believe me.
they think i'm wrong or being dramatic or being to sensitive or...or...or...WHATEVER excuse they told themselves to allow this to happen.
and now my son is low-key threatening me, or at leas taunting me.
i don't know how to deal with this.
i don't remember the full house episode that showed the squeaky clean 22 minute resolution to a situation like this.
Showing posts with label abuse. Show all posts
Showing posts with label abuse. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 24, 2019
Friday, November 2, 2018
steadfast
i've spent my whole life hating myself.
there's these horrible, destructive voices stuck in my head that are so loud it's hard to hear anything else.
i've taken on blame and hate and negativity from other people for SO LONG, that it just...it became who i was. i believed them. in my journals, as far back as you look, there's been the common theme: "what's wrong with me?" and "why am i so broken?" i believed i deserved to be treated terribly. OF COURSE i was sexually assaulted as a teenager. OF COURSE i was raped as an adult. OF COURSE i was in a domestic violence marriage. OF COURSE i can't find a relationship. i deserved it all. i'm this horrible piece of trash, broken person. i was born a mistake and deserve every terrible thing since then.
BUT. HERE'S THE THING: THAT'S NOT TRUE.
i'm not a horrible person. i'm not a piece of trash. i'm not broken.
i AM a little weird. i'll own that one.
it's taken YEARS, to start to shift that conversation in my mind and stop listening to those voices. i'm still working on it EVERY. SINGLE. DAY.
it's fucking hard work. really, really hard work.
but here's the bitch of it all: because i've thought of myself that way for so long, because i've believed the crap, because i believed all the HORRIBLE things, i kept allowing new people to treat me that way. why wouldn't they? and i've learned to distrust people that DON'T treat me that way. if anyone actually liked me, treated me kindly, maybe even loved me...there must be something wrong with them.
here's the really big bitch of all that: because i thought about myself that way, i let my kids think about me that way. I TAUGHT THEM to think of me that way. it's ok to make fun of mom being single. it's ok to say horrible things about mom. it's ok to yell insults and abuse. other people do, and she doesn't stop them. it's ok to just walk all over her, she won't stand up against it.
I TAUGHT MY KIDS TO HATE ME.
because i hated myself for so long.
that's a hard fucking pill to swallow.
and i'm not saying this out of self pity. i'm not saying this as yet another way to hate and blame myself. i'm saying this because if you want to change where you are, you have to acknowledge how you got there.
and i want to change. i NEED to change.
especially when i'm staring at the results of all the hate every. single. day.
last year when i quit my job i started working on myself.
i left that job because i was tired of listening to people talk trash about me. i was tired of being groped while i sat at my desk. i was tired of listening to people openly bash everything about me: single parents, LGBT, tattoos, educated, nothing was off limits.
i started realizing i'm worth something. i'm worth standing up for. i'm worth liking.
in a strange way, i realized how insulting it was to people that i love and trust that i INSISTED on hating myself. how little do i think of my friends? do i really think they would keep a piece of trash friend around? a few of them even said as much to me: "it's really insulting that you believe i have such poor taste in people."
yes, i know that's a backwards way of looking at things, but hey, it got my attention.
and so i started changing. i started working on it. i started allowing myself a little more space to be MYSELF. to LIKE myself. i started just BEING. and, oddly, no one really seemed to care. they didn't leave in droves. i wasn't burned at the stake. if anything, the more real i allow myself to be with other people, the more real they become with me, and the deeper and truer the connections.
it's pretty sad that it took me 38 years to really, truly grasp this concept. BUT I'M WORKING ON IT. i've tried over the years. i've flirted with the idea of changing my mindset. i've worked on it over and over. i've taken classes, i've read countless books, i've tried so many different things. but when you're just dealing with symptoms instead of getting to the CORE of the issue, it never sticks.
here's the core: I'M A GOOD PERSON. i finally believe that.
i like me. i help others as much as i can. i will do everything in my power to help a friend that asks. i want to leave this world a better place than i came into it. i'm self aware. i'm intelligent. i'm thoughtful. i'm learning to ask for help. i have a decent sense of humor, maybe a little dark at times, but there it is. i have a lovely, comfortable home that's open to anyone. i've always been able to make home wherever we were. i'm a hard worker. i'm a good employee. i'm good at my jobs. i'm analytical and thorough. i'm willing to admit when i'm wrong and always looking for ways to be better. i'm careful and intentional about the choices i make. i'm dependable. i'm responsible. i'm honest, maybe a little too much.
BUT.
that's all new. being able to write that paragraph AND BELIEVE IT is completely new to me.
it still feels like bragging. it still feels like pride. it still feels conceited and wrong.
and it's still hard to believe it all the time.
so.
as hard as it is for me to change and believe it...as a person that ACTIVELY, PASSIONATELY wants to believe it and change...
how much harder is it for a fifteen year old kid that just wants things to be the way they've always been?
i'm sure there's other things going on- hormones, self discovery, struggle to become an adult, friends, girls, school, peer pressure...all the teenage things.
but at the core, at the true core of this issue is a fifteen year old kid that learned hate. he learned abuse. he learned to be mean and insulting and bully and take what he wants. I TAUGHT HIM THAT. and now i'm trying to change it and he has no stake or interest in that change.
so it's HARD.
suddenly mom isn't a push over any more.
no one wants to hear no. especially a teenager.
he's been saying for months: "i just want things back the way they were," and "it's so toxic around here and i hate it."
he doesn't realize the toxic atmosphere is because i've stopped absorbing all the toxicity. i've stopped taking on all the insults and the hate, so they just....hang there. they've run into a wall of: YOU CAN'T TALK TO ME THAT WAY.
that's new. that's different. so. YEAH, it feels crappy around the house when what always worked doesn't work anymore.
and then you have to try something bigger.
oh, just being mean and saying horrible things doesn't work anymore. let's try getting in her face and pushing. ok. that didn't work. let's try threats. oh, that didn't work, let's try skipping school. oh, that didn't work, let's try self harm and accusations. oh, that didn't work, let's try drugs and alcohol. that didn't work. let's try calling the cops...
and on and on it's gone. the escalation just keeps jumping and jumping because he's not getting his way. i'm not giving in. i'm not letting him walk all over me any more. and it's turned into a MASSIVE crisis. it's ugly and hard and scary and i don't know what's going to happen. i don't know where he slept last night. i don't know if he's safe or has clean underwear. i don't know if he's scared or hurt.
but i DO know he's still angry. i DO know he still thinks he can bully everyone into getting his way.
he thinks he can snap his fingers and the police will do as he commands. he thinks he can lie and get away with things. he thinks he can push around commissioners, lawyers, teachers, counselors. he thinks he can do what he wants, all day, every day, with no consequences. if anyone stands up to him, he will hurl all the abuse and hate at them he can. he will threaten others and even himself.
but if you want to live in my house, you need to treat people with respect. you need to contribute to the house. you need to contribute to your future. go to school. come home at the end of the day. be respectful of friends, ESPECIALLY GIRLS. don't steal. don't lie. don't threaten.
DON'T ABUSE.
i'm standing up and saying _I_ don't deserve to be treated this way. NO ONE does. and that's a fucking HARD, HARD change.
but it's necessary.
a friend just posted an article about a man that killed his wife and then took his own life just days after being arrested for assaulting a female taxi driver.
he thought he could just take what he wanted. when someone stood up to him, when someone called him on his terrible behavior, it escalated.
i don't know the full story, i didn't live his life. but i can bet that this wasn't the first time he treated someone this way. i can bet that if he was bold enough to treat a perfect stranger the way he did, his wife was getting 100 times worse at home. i can bet that there's a LIST of people that saw his behavior. i can bet that there's old girlfriends that aren't shocked by this news.
because i've been there.
i'm there now.
it has to change.
since this all started with the teenager, several months ago, there's been one word that comes to mind over and over and over and over: steadfast.
it's a calm word. it's a fierce word. determined. strong.
it's not an active word. i'm not flying into battle. i'm not raging.
i'm standing my ground. calmly. patiently.
i'm saying THIS NEEDS TO CHANGE.
i'm saying THIS IS NO LONGER THE WAY IT WILL BE.
i have to stand my ground.
i have to teach my son.
i have to teach him that he can't bully and hate his way into what he wants. i have to teach him behaviors and actions have consequences. if i let him treat me this way, the cycle will continue. there will be another person out there thinking about themselves the way i've been thinking about myself, and i wouldn't wish that on ANYONE. my heart breaks at the idea of another young woman facing YEARS of thinking she deserves to be treated this way. i know the dark, destructive, terrible self hate. i know it well. i don't want anyone else to feel this. ever. it absolutely guts me to think of him being mean and hurtful to a partner, a spouse, maybe his own children in the future. it crushes me to think he'll treat a boss, a roommate, a coworker the way he's been treating people now. i hate seeing how hard it is on his friends, his grandparents, all the people trying to help him now.
I HAVE TO BREAK THE CYCLE.
i have to.
i can't let this continue for generations to come.
I HAVE TO STOP THE HATE.
i have to.
i didn't teach him hate in a day.
it may take a long time to teach him a new way.
but i am to the task.
i will break this cycle. i will stop the hate. i will stop the hurt. i will teach him a better way.
there's these horrible, destructive voices stuck in my head that are so loud it's hard to hear anything else.
i've taken on blame and hate and negativity from other people for SO LONG, that it just...it became who i was. i believed them. in my journals, as far back as you look, there's been the common theme: "what's wrong with me?" and "why am i so broken?" i believed i deserved to be treated terribly. OF COURSE i was sexually assaulted as a teenager. OF COURSE i was raped as an adult. OF COURSE i was in a domestic violence marriage. OF COURSE i can't find a relationship. i deserved it all. i'm this horrible piece of trash, broken person. i was born a mistake and deserve every terrible thing since then.
BUT. HERE'S THE THING: THAT'S NOT TRUE.
i'm not a horrible person. i'm not a piece of trash. i'm not broken.
i AM a little weird. i'll own that one.
it's taken YEARS, to start to shift that conversation in my mind and stop listening to those voices. i'm still working on it EVERY. SINGLE. DAY.
it's fucking hard work. really, really hard work.
but here's the bitch of it all: because i've thought of myself that way for so long, because i've believed the crap, because i believed all the HORRIBLE things, i kept allowing new people to treat me that way. why wouldn't they? and i've learned to distrust people that DON'T treat me that way. if anyone actually liked me, treated me kindly, maybe even loved me...there must be something wrong with them.
here's the really big bitch of all that: because i thought about myself that way, i let my kids think about me that way. I TAUGHT THEM to think of me that way. it's ok to make fun of mom being single. it's ok to say horrible things about mom. it's ok to yell insults and abuse. other people do, and she doesn't stop them. it's ok to just walk all over her, she won't stand up against it.
I TAUGHT MY KIDS TO HATE ME.
because i hated myself for so long.
that's a hard fucking pill to swallow.
and i'm not saying this out of self pity. i'm not saying this as yet another way to hate and blame myself. i'm saying this because if you want to change where you are, you have to acknowledge how you got there.
and i want to change. i NEED to change.
especially when i'm staring at the results of all the hate every. single. day.
last year when i quit my job i started working on myself.
i left that job because i was tired of listening to people talk trash about me. i was tired of being groped while i sat at my desk. i was tired of listening to people openly bash everything about me: single parents, LGBT, tattoos, educated, nothing was off limits.
i started realizing i'm worth something. i'm worth standing up for. i'm worth liking.
in a strange way, i realized how insulting it was to people that i love and trust that i INSISTED on hating myself. how little do i think of my friends? do i really think they would keep a piece of trash friend around? a few of them even said as much to me: "it's really insulting that you believe i have such poor taste in people."
yes, i know that's a backwards way of looking at things, but hey, it got my attention.
and so i started changing. i started working on it. i started allowing myself a little more space to be MYSELF. to LIKE myself. i started just BEING. and, oddly, no one really seemed to care. they didn't leave in droves. i wasn't burned at the stake. if anything, the more real i allow myself to be with other people, the more real they become with me, and the deeper and truer the connections.
it's pretty sad that it took me 38 years to really, truly grasp this concept. BUT I'M WORKING ON IT. i've tried over the years. i've flirted with the idea of changing my mindset. i've worked on it over and over. i've taken classes, i've read countless books, i've tried so many different things. but when you're just dealing with symptoms instead of getting to the CORE of the issue, it never sticks.
here's the core: I'M A GOOD PERSON. i finally believe that.
i like me. i help others as much as i can. i will do everything in my power to help a friend that asks. i want to leave this world a better place than i came into it. i'm self aware. i'm intelligent. i'm thoughtful. i'm learning to ask for help. i have a decent sense of humor, maybe a little dark at times, but there it is. i have a lovely, comfortable home that's open to anyone. i've always been able to make home wherever we were. i'm a hard worker. i'm a good employee. i'm good at my jobs. i'm analytical and thorough. i'm willing to admit when i'm wrong and always looking for ways to be better. i'm careful and intentional about the choices i make. i'm dependable. i'm responsible. i'm honest, maybe a little too much.
BUT.
that's all new. being able to write that paragraph AND BELIEVE IT is completely new to me.
it still feels like bragging. it still feels like pride. it still feels conceited and wrong.
and it's still hard to believe it all the time.
so.
as hard as it is for me to change and believe it...as a person that ACTIVELY, PASSIONATELY wants to believe it and change...
how much harder is it for a fifteen year old kid that just wants things to be the way they've always been?
i'm sure there's other things going on- hormones, self discovery, struggle to become an adult, friends, girls, school, peer pressure...all the teenage things.
but at the core, at the true core of this issue is a fifteen year old kid that learned hate. he learned abuse. he learned to be mean and insulting and bully and take what he wants. I TAUGHT HIM THAT. and now i'm trying to change it and he has no stake or interest in that change.
so it's HARD.
suddenly mom isn't a push over any more.
no one wants to hear no. especially a teenager.
he's been saying for months: "i just want things back the way they were," and "it's so toxic around here and i hate it."
he doesn't realize the toxic atmosphere is because i've stopped absorbing all the toxicity. i've stopped taking on all the insults and the hate, so they just....hang there. they've run into a wall of: YOU CAN'T TALK TO ME THAT WAY.
that's new. that's different. so. YEAH, it feels crappy around the house when what always worked doesn't work anymore.
and then you have to try something bigger.
oh, just being mean and saying horrible things doesn't work anymore. let's try getting in her face and pushing. ok. that didn't work. let's try threats. oh, that didn't work, let's try skipping school. oh, that didn't work, let's try self harm and accusations. oh, that didn't work, let's try drugs and alcohol. that didn't work. let's try calling the cops...
and on and on it's gone. the escalation just keeps jumping and jumping because he's not getting his way. i'm not giving in. i'm not letting him walk all over me any more. and it's turned into a MASSIVE crisis. it's ugly and hard and scary and i don't know what's going to happen. i don't know where he slept last night. i don't know if he's safe or has clean underwear. i don't know if he's scared or hurt.
but i DO know he's still angry. i DO know he still thinks he can bully everyone into getting his way.
he thinks he can snap his fingers and the police will do as he commands. he thinks he can lie and get away with things. he thinks he can push around commissioners, lawyers, teachers, counselors. he thinks he can do what he wants, all day, every day, with no consequences. if anyone stands up to him, he will hurl all the abuse and hate at them he can. he will threaten others and even himself.
but if you want to live in my house, you need to treat people with respect. you need to contribute to the house. you need to contribute to your future. go to school. come home at the end of the day. be respectful of friends, ESPECIALLY GIRLS. don't steal. don't lie. don't threaten.
DON'T ABUSE.
i'm standing up and saying _I_ don't deserve to be treated this way. NO ONE does. and that's a fucking HARD, HARD change.
but it's necessary.
a friend just posted an article about a man that killed his wife and then took his own life just days after being arrested for assaulting a female taxi driver.
he thought he could just take what he wanted. when someone stood up to him, when someone called him on his terrible behavior, it escalated.
i don't know the full story, i didn't live his life. but i can bet that this wasn't the first time he treated someone this way. i can bet that if he was bold enough to treat a perfect stranger the way he did, his wife was getting 100 times worse at home. i can bet that there's a LIST of people that saw his behavior. i can bet that there's old girlfriends that aren't shocked by this news.
because i've been there.
i'm there now.
it has to change.
since this all started with the teenager, several months ago, there's been one word that comes to mind over and over and over and over: steadfast.
it's a calm word. it's a fierce word. determined. strong.
it's not an active word. i'm not flying into battle. i'm not raging.
i'm standing my ground. calmly. patiently.
i'm saying THIS NEEDS TO CHANGE.
i'm saying THIS IS NO LONGER THE WAY IT WILL BE.
i have to stand my ground.
i have to teach my son.
i have to teach him that he can't bully and hate his way into what he wants. i have to teach him behaviors and actions have consequences. if i let him treat me this way, the cycle will continue. there will be another person out there thinking about themselves the way i've been thinking about myself, and i wouldn't wish that on ANYONE. my heart breaks at the idea of another young woman facing YEARS of thinking she deserves to be treated this way. i know the dark, destructive, terrible self hate. i know it well. i don't want anyone else to feel this. ever. it absolutely guts me to think of him being mean and hurtful to a partner, a spouse, maybe his own children in the future. it crushes me to think he'll treat a boss, a roommate, a coworker the way he's been treating people now. i hate seeing how hard it is on his friends, his grandparents, all the people trying to help him now.
I HAVE TO BREAK THE CYCLE.
i have to.
i can't let this continue for generations to come.
I HAVE TO STOP THE HATE.
i have to.
i didn't teach him hate in a day.
it may take a long time to teach him a new way.
but i am to the task.
i will break this cycle. i will stop the hate. i will stop the hurt. i will teach him a better way.
Monday, October 29, 2018
long story short
it's been a rough several months at home.
back in May things started getting difficult with my 15 year old son.
it hasn't improved.
lying, stealing, running away, draining $2k from a bank account, picking fights, skipping school, confrontations with teachers and police officers, court hearing, contempt of court hearing, suicide threats, drug use, alcohol use, tobacco use, abuse accusations, verbal and emotional attacks, self-harm to attempt to seek placement outside the house...the list grows almost daily.
the police have been to our home countless times. i have been investigated by the courts, CPS, questioned by police, commissioners, advocates, counselors.
we are utilizing the juvenile court systems, court appointed counseling programs, community resources, school resources, friends, family.
i have knocked on every door and called every phone number provided.
things are bad.
things are really bad.
on october 19th i removed my son from the house for both of our safety. he's staying with relatives while i try to figure out what comes next.
it's been an adjustment. the learning curve is HUGE. there's so many parts and pieces and contributing factors. there's work and cooperation necessary for improvement that don't seem like they'll happen any time soon.
i'm lost. i'm bewildered. i'm sad. i'm worried. i'm grieving. i'm...i'm a hot mess express most days. my apartment has been stress cleaned *almost* to white glove inspection standards.
BUT.
silver lining, i guess, if that's a thing: i'm learning a LOT about myself through this process. i'm learning how to stand up for myself. i'm setting personal boundaries and sticking to them. i'm learning to listen. i'm learning to give trust and to ask for trust. i'm learning that if you ask for help, there's people ready and waiting who WANT to help. i'm learning to utilize people with better resources and experience. i'm learning to stay calm, be steadfast. i'm learning not to take things personally, even when they're meant to be EXTREMELY, intentionally, targeted personal attacks. i'm growing and opening up. finally. now that i'm almost 40 i'm learning some really basic stuff. I'M NOT SHAMING MYSELF. i'm acknowledging that, while behind the times, i'm finally catching up. i'm finally dealing with some really, really old trauma that still has claws. i'm learning to set aside old useless weights, change my thinking, my inner monologue. i'm learning to be kind to myself and maybe even like myself a little.
growth and change is never easy or fun. it's messy and usually painful. it's like cleaning out my house: it gets worse before it gets better, it's easy to get overwhelmed by how much there is to do, but in the end, it's worth the work.
back in May things started getting difficult with my 15 year old son.
it hasn't improved.
lying, stealing, running away, draining $2k from a bank account, picking fights, skipping school, confrontations with teachers and police officers, court hearing, contempt of court hearing, suicide threats, drug use, alcohol use, tobacco use, abuse accusations, verbal and emotional attacks, self-harm to attempt to seek placement outside the house...the list grows almost daily.
the police have been to our home countless times. i have been investigated by the courts, CPS, questioned by police, commissioners, advocates, counselors.
we are utilizing the juvenile court systems, court appointed counseling programs, community resources, school resources, friends, family.
i have knocked on every door and called every phone number provided.
things are bad.
things are really bad.
on october 19th i removed my son from the house for both of our safety. he's staying with relatives while i try to figure out what comes next.
it's been an adjustment. the learning curve is HUGE. there's so many parts and pieces and contributing factors. there's work and cooperation necessary for improvement that don't seem like they'll happen any time soon.
i'm lost. i'm bewildered. i'm sad. i'm worried. i'm grieving. i'm...i'm a hot mess express most days. my apartment has been stress cleaned *almost* to white glove inspection standards.
BUT.
silver lining, i guess, if that's a thing: i'm learning a LOT about myself through this process. i'm learning how to stand up for myself. i'm setting personal boundaries and sticking to them. i'm learning to listen. i'm learning to give trust and to ask for trust. i'm learning that if you ask for help, there's people ready and waiting who WANT to help. i'm learning to utilize people with better resources and experience. i'm learning to stay calm, be steadfast. i'm learning not to take things personally, even when they're meant to be EXTREMELY, intentionally, targeted personal attacks. i'm growing and opening up. finally. now that i'm almost 40 i'm learning some really basic stuff. I'M NOT SHAMING MYSELF. i'm acknowledging that, while behind the times, i'm finally catching up. i'm finally dealing with some really, really old trauma that still has claws. i'm learning to set aside old useless weights, change my thinking, my inner monologue. i'm learning to be kind to myself and maybe even like myself a little.
growth and change is never easy or fun. it's messy and usually painful. it's like cleaning out my house: it gets worse before it gets better, it's easy to get overwhelmed by how much there is to do, but in the end, it's worth the work.
Thursday, May 12, 2016
what if it's true?
know how some weeks it just seems like the universe is bound and determined to get your attention about something but you don't know WHY?
that's this week for me.
the what? domestic violence.
the why? fuck if i know.
i am a survivor of domestic violence. i left 12/13/2003 and never went back.
i have been away for a LONG time. and my...i don't know what to call it...scars? doesn't seem right because a scar indicates something that is completely healed and can't be opened back up again. but these wounds have sure as fuck been opened back up again.
i have a child support hearing next week. the case hasn't been touched since it was initially finalized as part of the divorce in 7/2004. there's a change in amounts around age 13, so i figured, why not, see if maybe there's a chance at getting some extra support to cover sports, clothes, school, all the things. especially since the teenager outgrows everything the minute the tag is off.
i'm terrified of the support hearing. i know that there's a VERY slim chance he'll fly up from whatever state he's in for the hearing. but i HATE going to court. it's like going to the principals office- even if I did nothing wrong it's still nerve wracking as fuck. and what if he does fly in? and what if he brings the wife with him? she's a hard core mean girl. i'm sure she's pissed as fuck that i filed. i'm sure she's shared it all over her social network what a money hungry bitch i am- she had ENDLESS things to say after the divorce about me. hell, she even SCREAMED at me once over the phone for talking to him every day and trying to get him back and spending all sorts of time with him. her screaming quieted down a bit i told her i didn't know who he was talking to on the phone or seeing, but i hadn't seen or hear from him in months.
i'm terrified of having to face either of them again. it's been 13 years and i'm still sick when i think about having to face his lies and truth twisting- ESPECIALLY in court where judges really don't care what's true (or at least they didn't in stevens county) and just want to get through all the cases for the day.
earlier this week on twitter there was a hashtag #MaybeHeDoesntHitYou about non-violent domestic violence. reading through all the different responses was HARD. so hard. it brought back way too much baggage and way too much pain that i thought i was over.
maybe he doesn't hit you but he isolates you from all your friends and family.
maybe he doesn't hit you but he destroys your credit
maybe he doesn't hit you but he shames every part of who you are
maybe he doesn't hit you but he tells you every day that he hates you and wants you gone
maybe he doesn't hit you but you wish he would because bruises heal faster than words
maybe he doesn't hit you but he constantly criticizes your clothes and make up
maybe he doesn't hit you but he reduces you to tears every change he gets
maybe he doesn't hit you but even the kids know to be quiet to not set him off
maybe he doesn't hit you when you try to talk about your feelings you end up crying and apologizing for being wrong
maybe he doesn't hit you...
the list goes on and on.
i remember being SCREAMED at for hours because i put green beans in the tater tot casserole.
i asked him to go play cards with friends one thanksgiving and he threatened to have the sheriff arrest me for kidnapping if i made him go.
i remember him calling me every. single. day. at work to make sure i was where i said i was.
i remember him checking the caller ID every night when he got home to see who i'd been talking to.
i remember him intentionally draining the bank account so i couldn't buy groceries.
i remember him opening credit cards in my name without my permission and racking up THOUSANDS of dollars.
i remember forcing myself to write in my journal on the bad days so that on the good days i wouldn't trick myself into thinking i'd made it all up.
i remember sleeping on the couch for 6 months because breastfeeding was disgusting and he didn't want it anywhere near him.
i wasn't allowed to ever have pineapple in the house because it was disgusting.
one little hashtag and i was right back in the house we lived in, back in the emotions, back in the fear.
the same day i was at my kiddos baseball game, minding my own business, and one of the other parents started to talk to me. i'm not social by nature, but she started a conversation and i won't be rude, so i chatted with her while the game drug on.
she told me about her abusive ex. and becoming a domestic violence lawyer. and i talked about my history. and again, i was right back there.
and for the last few days i've been stuck there. because that sound track is hard as fuck to turn off once it starts.
especially.
especially when it's true.
all those things he said to me? he wasn't wrong.
he told me no one else would want me.
13 years later i can't even get a date.
and he's still married to the second mistress.
he told me i was worthless.
13 years later he's making $140K a year without even a high school diploma and i'm having to ask the court (him) for more money to help make ends meet.
he told me no one would want to be around me.
i'm completely and totally alone. all the time.
how do you turn off the sound track? how do you convince yourself he's wrong when he wasn't?
and i don't know why this is all coming up. i don't know why this is the theme of the week. i don't know what i'm missing. i don't know what lesson i haven't learned yet. i don't know why i have to think about all this all over again.
there's something i need to see. there's something i need to figure out. but fuck if it isn't hard not to just wallow and be in pain. again. and i know i'm better than that. and i want to believe he was wrong, but i'm having a hard time convincing myself otherwise.
i'll keep looking. i'll keep sorting. i'll keep working through it. but what if at the end, it's just true?
that's this week for me.
the what? domestic violence.
the why? fuck if i know.
i am a survivor of domestic violence. i left 12/13/2003 and never went back.
i have been away for a LONG time. and my...i don't know what to call it...scars? doesn't seem right because a scar indicates something that is completely healed and can't be opened back up again. but these wounds have sure as fuck been opened back up again.
i have a child support hearing next week. the case hasn't been touched since it was initially finalized as part of the divorce in 7/2004. there's a change in amounts around age 13, so i figured, why not, see if maybe there's a chance at getting some extra support to cover sports, clothes, school, all the things. especially since the teenager outgrows everything the minute the tag is off.
i'm terrified of the support hearing. i know that there's a VERY slim chance he'll fly up from whatever state he's in for the hearing. but i HATE going to court. it's like going to the principals office- even if I did nothing wrong it's still nerve wracking as fuck. and what if he does fly in? and what if he brings the wife with him? she's a hard core mean girl. i'm sure she's pissed as fuck that i filed. i'm sure she's shared it all over her social network what a money hungry bitch i am- she had ENDLESS things to say after the divorce about me. hell, she even SCREAMED at me once over the phone for talking to him every day and trying to get him back and spending all sorts of time with him. her screaming quieted down a bit i told her i didn't know who he was talking to on the phone or seeing, but i hadn't seen or hear from him in months.
i'm terrified of having to face either of them again. it's been 13 years and i'm still sick when i think about having to face his lies and truth twisting- ESPECIALLY in court where judges really don't care what's true (or at least they didn't in stevens county) and just want to get through all the cases for the day.
earlier this week on twitter there was a hashtag #MaybeHeDoesntHitYou about non-violent domestic violence. reading through all the different responses was HARD. so hard. it brought back way too much baggage and way too much pain that i thought i was over.
maybe he doesn't hit you but he isolates you from all your friends and family.
maybe he doesn't hit you but he destroys your credit
maybe he doesn't hit you but he shames every part of who you are
maybe he doesn't hit you but he tells you every day that he hates you and wants you gone
maybe he doesn't hit you but you wish he would because bruises heal faster than words
maybe he doesn't hit you but he constantly criticizes your clothes and make up
maybe he doesn't hit you but he reduces you to tears every change he gets
maybe he doesn't hit you but even the kids know to be quiet to not set him off
maybe he doesn't hit you when you try to talk about your feelings you end up crying and apologizing for being wrong
maybe he doesn't hit you...
the list goes on and on.
i remember being SCREAMED at for hours because i put green beans in the tater tot casserole.
i asked him to go play cards with friends one thanksgiving and he threatened to have the sheriff arrest me for kidnapping if i made him go.
i remember him calling me every. single. day. at work to make sure i was where i said i was.
i remember him checking the caller ID every night when he got home to see who i'd been talking to.
i remember him intentionally draining the bank account so i couldn't buy groceries.
i remember him opening credit cards in my name without my permission and racking up THOUSANDS of dollars.
i remember forcing myself to write in my journal on the bad days so that on the good days i wouldn't trick myself into thinking i'd made it all up.
i remember sleeping on the couch for 6 months because breastfeeding was disgusting and he didn't want it anywhere near him.
i wasn't allowed to ever have pineapple in the house because it was disgusting.
one little hashtag and i was right back in the house we lived in, back in the emotions, back in the fear.
the same day i was at my kiddos baseball game, minding my own business, and one of the other parents started to talk to me. i'm not social by nature, but she started a conversation and i won't be rude, so i chatted with her while the game drug on.
she told me about her abusive ex. and becoming a domestic violence lawyer. and i talked about my history. and again, i was right back there.
and for the last few days i've been stuck there. because that sound track is hard as fuck to turn off once it starts.
especially.
especially when it's true.
all those things he said to me? he wasn't wrong.
he told me no one else would want me.
13 years later i can't even get a date.
and he's still married to the second mistress.
he told me i was worthless.
13 years later he's making $140K a year without even a high school diploma and i'm having to ask the court (him) for more money to help make ends meet.
he told me no one would want to be around me.
i'm completely and totally alone. all the time.
how do you turn off the sound track? how do you convince yourself he's wrong when he wasn't?
and i don't know why this is all coming up. i don't know why this is the theme of the week. i don't know what i'm missing. i don't know what lesson i haven't learned yet. i don't know why i have to think about all this all over again.
there's something i need to see. there's something i need to figure out. but fuck if it isn't hard not to just wallow and be in pain. again. and i know i'm better than that. and i want to believe he was wrong, but i'm having a hard time convincing myself otherwise.
i'll keep looking. i'll keep sorting. i'll keep working through it. but what if at the end, it's just true?
Monday, May 26, 2014
purging even more posion
i had a huge realization last night after spending HOURS writing a letter to my mother purging all my hatred and hurt and everything that i've been holding onto when it comes to her.
as angry as i am at her, and as much as i've battled to let that go over the years, i finally realized that maybe the reason i've never been able to is because i've never addressed the REAL source of all the hatred and anger. as angry as i am at my mother, she isn't the cause of all the hurt. her choices that i react the most strongly against are the result of someone else's actions, actions that i've never been willing to address head on.
until now.
my mothers husband, my step father, is a horrible person. he is a pedophile, an abuser, a terrible, destructive person. he hides behind religion and fear. he has done damage to my family for over 25 years. my reasons for cutting my mother out of my life are due to her support and allegiance to him.
i have never spoken directly to him about my anger and hurt and damage.
i've been afraid. i've been ashamed. i have been worried sick that if i wrote or talked about growing up then friends, boyfriends, people wouldn't want to associate with me. they would look at me with pity or disgust. i didn't want people to know how fucked up my head is. i didn't want guys to know what i battle inside my head every time one is interested in me.
i'm tired of being ashamed. i'm tired of hiding. i'm tired of letting him win by keeping quiet. i'm tired of holding onto anger at other people because i've been to scared to say what my real anger is.
i know this will be considered airing dirty laundry to some. but i don't fucking care any more. i don't care if it's dirty laundry. i don't care if people find it gross or sick. this has shaped who i am and is one of my biggest battles. people that are worth having in my life will understand that. everyone else can fuck off.
airing dirty laundry, letting skeletons out of the closet, i don't care.
i'm taking my voice back and letting people know what an abuser is and how many different ways it can hurt.
michael gates:
i fucking loathe you. i have wished a thousand times for your painful, torturous, death. i used to watch news reports of car accidents in my home town and wish it were you. i have wished you weren't such a coward and that you would leave my mother and go off and rot in an unknown corner like you said you thought about doing so many times.
you are a demon on earth. you cause pain and destruction while hiding behind intimidation and religion. you are only "sorry" when you get caught, not because you're actually sorry or wish to change. you think that if you cry a little and lead a few songs at sunday service all will be forgiven.
i. fucking. hate. you.
i hate you for all the things that you taught me. for teaching me what it feels like to be backhanded by someone twice my size. for teaching me to be afraid to speak my mind. i hate you for all the times you backhanded my brother. for all the times you made me scared of you because he was scared of you. i hate you for lying to and hiding things from my mother your whole marriage. i hate you for teaching me a warped twisted version of marriage. i hate you for hiding thousands of dollars in debit from my mother and taking advantage of how hard she worked for things. i hate you for your fucking locked briefcase and all the secrets that you kept. i hate that i'm so scared of ending up with someone like you that i would rather be alone.
i hate you for teaching me at 11 years old that i needed to learn how to give blow jobs for boys to like me- a voice i still hear every. single. time. i'm with a guy. i hate you for teaching me that i needed to learn how to shave "down there" or everyone would think i was disgusting. i hate you for telling me about all your sexual experiences in the military. i hate you for telling me about your mother daughter threesomes. i hate you for telling me how terrible my own mother is at sex and how she never put out enough for you. i hate you for teaching me to lie to my mother and hide things from her- "there's some things mom doesn't need to know about."
i hate that my few friends were uncomfortable at our house. i hate that the few times i tried to talk to anyone about what was going on, i ended up being in trouble and socially ostracized.
i hate you for hiding your porn collection in my first apartment. i hate you for ordering videos and having them delivered to my house. i hate you for masturbating in front of me to those videos, in my own home. you took away the safety of my very first home.
i hate you for making me ashamed and making me hide everything. i hate how you were only momentarily sorry after i was forced to talk about what happened. i hate that you never owned up to being a fucking creep, only reacted to a few specific things.
i hate that you introduced me to my husband/abuser. i hate that when i finally left you maintained a friendship with him. i hate that to you it was more important to look good at work than worry about the protection of your family. i should have known that abusers would bond over a shared target.
i hate that you started playing the same games, teaching the same lies to my son- "there's some things you don't talk about. only kids will get in trouble, not grown ups." i hate that my own mother called me a liar and believed you over me. i hate that she told me i was just projecting what happened to me onto my son. i hate that you let her think that. i hate that you lie and hide and manipulate causing a second layer of abuse because the first just wasn't enough.
i hate that you took my mother away from me. i hate that she believes you. i hate that she told me nothing i say will ever be true because that's easier to her than believing the real horrible person you are. i hate that you've taken away what family i have left. i hate that you spend time with my niece and nephew and everyone thinks it's ok. i hate that you encouraged my mom to have a daycare in her home. i hate that you allowed a foreign exchange student to live with for a year. i hate that you have countless high school and students as your friends on facebook. i HATE that people actually believe the bullshit that "because you had a hard time making friends as a teenager, it's okay for you now, at 50+ years old, to have teenage friends. i hate that you are allowed around innocent unknowing people.
i hate that everything is my fault. i hate that you tell people that i made it all up. i hate that you make my VERY VALID concerns that this is still happening to other kids just "misguided accusations." i find it very odd that you supposedly had some big tearful coming clean to your church but then shortly thereafter switched churches.
i HATE. more than anything. that you've tried to convince my own children that i'm a liar. i hate that you flat out plain text told my son i am a liar. i hate that you told him you never did anything to me. i hate that you lied and tried to play the pity card to get him to sneak to come visit you. i hate that you tried to use other peoples position of trust and authority as a reason my children should trust you.
i hate that you lie and twist truths and keep getting away with it. i hate how many people believe you.
i hate that i've let you stay in my head for so long.
i will never forgive you for twisting and warping my childhood. i will never forgive you for trying to do the same to my son. i will never forgive you for making my mother choose between us. i will never forgive you even long after you're dead and rotten and not able to cause any more harm to any more people.
but i choose, right now, to not let you continue to ruin my life. i will never have anything to do with you or my mother ever again. i will stop worrying about things i can't control, people i can't change. i will no longer believe all the things you taught me when i was so little. i will learn to turn off your voice in my head. i will learn to forget thing that should have never happened.
i will continue to protect my kids and anyone i can from you. i will stop waiting for an apology that will never come. you have ruined enough years. you have damaged me more than should have ever been allowed. i will not be ashamed any more. i will not be afraid of what people will think.
i know that things will never change. i know that you will never stop lying. i know that you will never stop hurting. i know that i can't change that. but i also know that i can stop letting it affect me.
it's not my battle any more. i'm done with you.
as angry as i am at her, and as much as i've battled to let that go over the years, i finally realized that maybe the reason i've never been able to is because i've never addressed the REAL source of all the hatred and anger. as angry as i am at my mother, she isn't the cause of all the hurt. her choices that i react the most strongly against are the result of someone else's actions, actions that i've never been willing to address head on.
until now.
my mothers husband, my step father, is a horrible person. he is a pedophile, an abuser, a terrible, destructive person. he hides behind religion and fear. he has done damage to my family for over 25 years. my reasons for cutting my mother out of my life are due to her support and allegiance to him.
i have never spoken directly to him about my anger and hurt and damage.
i've been afraid. i've been ashamed. i have been worried sick that if i wrote or talked about growing up then friends, boyfriends, people wouldn't want to associate with me. they would look at me with pity or disgust. i didn't want people to know how fucked up my head is. i didn't want guys to know what i battle inside my head every time one is interested in me.
i'm tired of being ashamed. i'm tired of hiding. i'm tired of letting him win by keeping quiet. i'm tired of holding onto anger at other people because i've been to scared to say what my real anger is.
i know this will be considered airing dirty laundry to some. but i don't fucking care any more. i don't care if it's dirty laundry. i don't care if people find it gross or sick. this has shaped who i am and is one of my biggest battles. people that are worth having in my life will understand that. everyone else can fuck off.
airing dirty laundry, letting skeletons out of the closet, i don't care.
i'm taking my voice back and letting people know what an abuser is and how many different ways it can hurt.
michael gates:
i fucking loathe you. i have wished a thousand times for your painful, torturous, death. i used to watch news reports of car accidents in my home town and wish it were you. i have wished you weren't such a coward and that you would leave my mother and go off and rot in an unknown corner like you said you thought about doing so many times.
you are a demon on earth. you cause pain and destruction while hiding behind intimidation and religion. you are only "sorry" when you get caught, not because you're actually sorry or wish to change. you think that if you cry a little and lead a few songs at sunday service all will be forgiven.
i. fucking. hate. you.
i hate you for all the things that you taught me. for teaching me what it feels like to be backhanded by someone twice my size. for teaching me to be afraid to speak my mind. i hate you for all the times you backhanded my brother. for all the times you made me scared of you because he was scared of you. i hate you for lying to and hiding things from my mother your whole marriage. i hate you for teaching me a warped twisted version of marriage. i hate you for hiding thousands of dollars in debit from my mother and taking advantage of how hard she worked for things. i hate you for your fucking locked briefcase and all the secrets that you kept. i hate that i'm so scared of ending up with someone like you that i would rather be alone.
i hate you for teaching me at 11 years old that i needed to learn how to give blow jobs for boys to like me- a voice i still hear every. single. time. i'm with a guy. i hate you for teaching me that i needed to learn how to shave "down there" or everyone would think i was disgusting. i hate you for telling me about all your sexual experiences in the military. i hate you for telling me about your mother daughter threesomes. i hate you for telling me how terrible my own mother is at sex and how she never put out enough for you. i hate you for teaching me to lie to my mother and hide things from her- "there's some things mom doesn't need to know about."
i hate that my few friends were uncomfortable at our house. i hate that the few times i tried to talk to anyone about what was going on, i ended up being in trouble and socially ostracized.
i hate you for hiding your porn collection in my first apartment. i hate you for ordering videos and having them delivered to my house. i hate you for masturbating in front of me to those videos, in my own home. you took away the safety of my very first home.
i hate you for making me ashamed and making me hide everything. i hate how you were only momentarily sorry after i was forced to talk about what happened. i hate that you never owned up to being a fucking creep, only reacted to a few specific things.
i hate that you introduced me to my husband/abuser. i hate that when i finally left you maintained a friendship with him. i hate that to you it was more important to look good at work than worry about the protection of your family. i should have known that abusers would bond over a shared target.
i hate that you started playing the same games, teaching the same lies to my son- "there's some things you don't talk about. only kids will get in trouble, not grown ups." i hate that my own mother called me a liar and believed you over me. i hate that she told me i was just projecting what happened to me onto my son. i hate that you let her think that. i hate that you lie and hide and manipulate causing a second layer of abuse because the first just wasn't enough.
i hate that you took my mother away from me. i hate that she believes you. i hate that she told me nothing i say will ever be true because that's easier to her than believing the real horrible person you are. i hate that you've taken away what family i have left. i hate that you spend time with my niece and nephew and everyone thinks it's ok. i hate that you encouraged my mom to have a daycare in her home. i hate that you allowed a foreign exchange student to live with for a year. i hate that you have countless high school and students as your friends on facebook. i HATE that people actually believe the bullshit that "because you had a hard time making friends as a teenager, it's okay for you now, at 50+ years old, to have teenage friends. i hate that you are allowed around innocent unknowing people.
i hate that everything is my fault. i hate that you tell people that i made it all up. i hate that you make my VERY VALID concerns that this is still happening to other kids just "misguided accusations." i find it very odd that you supposedly had some big tearful coming clean to your church but then shortly thereafter switched churches.
i HATE. more than anything. that you've tried to convince my own children that i'm a liar. i hate that you flat out plain text told my son i am a liar. i hate that you told him you never did anything to me. i hate that you lied and tried to play the pity card to get him to sneak to come visit you. i hate that you tried to use other peoples position of trust and authority as a reason my children should trust you.
i hate that you lie and twist truths and keep getting away with it. i hate how many people believe you.
i hate that i've let you stay in my head for so long.
i will never forgive you for twisting and warping my childhood. i will never forgive you for trying to do the same to my son. i will never forgive you for making my mother choose between us. i will never forgive you even long after you're dead and rotten and not able to cause any more harm to any more people.
but i choose, right now, to not let you continue to ruin my life. i will never have anything to do with you or my mother ever again. i will stop worrying about things i can't control, people i can't change. i will no longer believe all the things you taught me when i was so little. i will learn to turn off your voice in my head. i will learn to forget thing that should have never happened.
i will continue to protect my kids and anyone i can from you. i will stop waiting for an apology that will never come. you have ruined enough years. you have damaged me more than should have ever been allowed. i will not be ashamed any more. i will not be afraid of what people will think.
i know that things will never change. i know that you will never stop lying. i know that you will never stop hurting. i know that i can't change that. but i also know that i can stop letting it affect me.
it's not my battle any more. i'm done with you.
purging the poison
they say when youre angry at someone you should write a letter and stick it in a drawer, let it sit, go back and read it, if you still feel the same, send it.
i've been writing this letter in my head over and over for years. i've stuck it in the mental file drawer a thousand times. i keep coming back to it. i keep adding to it. it the same emotions, the same feelings, the same everything- only difference is it keeps growing and getting more angry and poisonous.
it's killing me.
i keep waiting for it to go away. i keep trying to find ways to purge it or look past it or move on from it. but it seems everything, especially lately, keeps circling back to it and it's killing me. i'm depressed. i'm hiding from friends. i'm barely moving off the couch when i get home from work. i've reduced my circle of people to almost none and i keep fighting myself to not push the final few away. i'm SO ANGRY. all the time. and i actually AM angry instead of just feeling angry. it's affecting my actions, decisions, interactions, posture. i know the difference between feeling and being. and i'm being angry.
i know the hierarchy of negative: anger is a response to fear which is a response to pain which is a response to an unmet need (6 basic human needs: consistency, variety, significance, love/connection, growth, contribution). i know that the way to resolve/move past the hierarchy of negative is to find the need that's not being met, work on a solution.
i also understand that the solution i most desire is not possible and i'll have to find a way to be okay with that. THAT'S THE HARD PART. the solution i most desire are the significance and love/connection chunks. 2/6 of the whole. and the person i want those from, my mother, is the person least able to provide those pieces. and that makes me angry.
second verse, same as the first. you can see how this little circle can grow to be exhausting.
i think the hardest part for my logical brain is the denial, the lack of validation, being told that nothing i say is true or real and it will never be.
i don't just say things. my brain processes NON-STOP. it always has. i know what i'm saying is real and true. i know my experiences and my memories happened. to be ignored or told otherwise...it just does not compute. so i keep thinking. i keep trying to find another way to present the information hoping this time it will get through.
i'm sure this won't be my last attempt. but this is my biggest attempt. this is me purging all the poison. getting it all out in a logical, concise, concrete form. this is me coming to terms with those two missing pieces. this is my last shot at significance (value, importance) and love/connection. i'm laying it all down. i know i won't get the answer and the resolution i want. i know that my mother will never see it. i know that if she did it wouldn't change anything. i'll have to work on a way to be okay with that. but here's my letter. i want to be done with this anger and start moving forward again.
mom-
i hate you. i am so hurt and battle scarred from so many things from so many years. i hate that you are this overpowering negative voice in my head that i can't turn off. well, that i haven't learned to turn completely off anyway. the FUCK YOU that i yell every time i hear you is getting louder and stronger. but you're still there.
i hate that i can't wear the color red without hearing how it will make all my acne/flaws stand out. i hate that every time i look at my self in the mirror and think i look nice it's followed by "for someone your size." i hate that i feel like a bad mother when i want to buy a new shirt without buying one for my kids. i hate that every time i correct my kids or punish them i hear in my head "if anyone else saw the way you treat your kids they would turn you into the state." i hate that i feel shallow for liking curling irons and make up. i hate that i had to read the instructions on the tampon box because i couldn't ask my own mother about how to use them.
those are little things. there's so many more from the closet where those are stashed.
the real pain and anger has it's own fucking wing, not just a dark little closet.
i HATE that as far back as i can remember i was never wanted. i HATE that i know you didn't want to get pregnant and you were on birth control and my dad was having an affair with the nurse and that made it a terrible delivery and the whole thing from day one was torture for you. i hate that not only was i mistake from the beginning, but you drilled it into my head my whole life.
i HATE that when you got married the second time it was "because you needed help raising your son."
where do i even begin with that one? did i not exist? did you not care about raising me?
how about the other side of that coin? how far it has pushed me to NOT be that single mother that "needs help raising her kids." do you know that is one of the biggest reasons i'm single? because the minute any guy mentions that maybe i need help, i rebel and instantly get rid of him to not be that weak, pathetic mom that will marry any abusive pedophile to take over for her.
i hate that you didn't even notice me until my brother had graduated high school and gone off to college. i was 15 the first time you noticed i had a sense of humor and 24 the first time you told me that. i hate i was threatened and bullied from grade school through high school and all i got were lectures about how to make friends. how many hours did i spend researching bible verses about how to be a better friend because it must be my problem? i hate that when my brother told me he was ashamed of me and embarrassed by me for being into theater and books- instead of defending me or letting me be myself you encouraged me to do things he approved of. HOW FUCKED UP IS THAT? you cared more about him not being embarrassed in front of his friends than about who i was. i hate that when i had problems you shoved me in counselor after shitty ass counselor instead of just talking to me yourself.
i hate that when i got pregnant the your response was "well, we've been expecting this." did assuming the worst about me just come natural? did you even care that it was my FIRST time? did you even ask? did you really not care enough to talk to me before hand? if you expected it, why didn't you even attempt to...ANYTHING? you worked at the community health clinic for fucks sake. education. birth control. ANYTHING. instead, not only was prevention ignored, i was shoved into the fucking abstinence class when i was seven fucking months pregnant. i mean. WHAT THE FUCK?
i hate that when i was in an abusive marriage all you could do is point out over and over again all his affairs and how horrible and damaging it was, but when i left you couldn't help me because he worked at the same business as your husband and you didn't want to make it awkward for them at work. ME, MY TWO CHILDREN. your own child and your grandchildren. DOMESTIC VIOLENCE. and you didn't want it to be awkward for two grown men at work.
i hate that you never listened to me. i hate that you asked me to attend counseling with you only to be looked straight in the face and called a liar. i hate that you told me, without hesitation, without second thought that nothing i say will ever be true. i hate that when i talked about things that happened to me growing up you looked at the counselor and said "she's making things up in her head." i hate that when the counselor asked you if you heard what you said about your own daughter YOU REPEATED IT. you bold faced called me a liar and a crazy person in the same sentence. YOU. SAID. THAT. ABOUT. ME.
i hate how weak and ignorant you choose to be. i hate that you are not only married to but stand up and defend a pedophile even though it cost you ever having any type of a relationship with me ever again. i hate that you defend him. i hate that you still have small children in your home around him. i hate that you make excuse after excuse for his behavior. i hate that you refuse to do anything about it and are so willingly allowing him to hurt other people. i hate that you are so stupid to sign a pedophiles name to children's birthday cards. i hate that you have no clue how many teenage and high school kids your husband has on facebook. i HATE that when i told you how he had groomed me growing up you looked me straight in the eye and said "what do you want me to do? it already happened." i hate that you shamed me into keeping quiet so he thought it would be ok to start grooming my child. i hate how you tried to blame my three year old child for making things up in order to excuse your husband. i hate that you choose to be ignorant against the statement and conclusions and opinions of several professionals.
i hate that i have tried to cut you out of my life but you're still there. i hate that i had to cut my own mother out to protect my family. i hate that when i my dad died i needed my mom and you weren't there. i hate that when teenager moved away i needed my mom and you weren't there. i hate all the bad days and holidays and occasions when i just want a mom to talk to, when i need someone to tell me everything will be ok- there's no one there. i hate that every time someone ask about my family i have to tell them i have none.
i hate that you're the voice in my head. i hate that you're the example i grew up with. i hate that i'm trying SO HARD not to be you that i have no clue what i need to be.
i hate that i have been cut out of my sons life. i hate the pain that i feel from it. i hate that i know you must feel the same pain. i hate that i feel bad for you.
i hate that i'm questioning my decisions. i hate that my choosing to protect my kids is even remotely blurred with your refusal to protect yours. i hate the irony: the thing i most need help with right now is the exact same thing that's keeping us apart. a child so angry at their parent that they can't talk to them. my choice to cut you out to prevent one kind of damage has instead been replaced by another.
i hate the thought that my son could feel the same way about me that i feel about you. i have tried so hard to protect him and stand up for him and go to battle for him. you have never once done that for me. i'm worried he doesn't see the difference and that makes me so angry. all he sees is the dysfunction. i hate that i've been forced to choose between protecting him and having my mother. i hate that this fucked up mess is the example he'll grow up with.
i hate that i'll never be of value to you. i hate that i'll never be accepted. i hate all the negatives. i hate that you're so scared of whatever you're scared of that you've chosen to stay where you are. i hate that you've chosen to stay with an abuser. i hate i'll never be good enough for you to choose.
that's a LOT of hate.
a LOT of poison.
i now from here i need to learn how to let go of all that. i need to find out who and what i want to be and quit focusing on what i don't want to be. i need to turn off her voice in my head and find my own voice. i need to stop looking for value and significance from others and find it in myself. i'm not sure what all that looks like, but i'm ready to find out. i'm tired of being angry. i'm tired of carrying all this bullshit with me. i'm tired of drinking the poison.
i know i have a long unknown path from here to healthy. i don't know what tools i'll need. i don't know which direction to go. but i'm ready to find out.
i've been writing this letter in my head over and over for years. i've stuck it in the mental file drawer a thousand times. i keep coming back to it. i keep adding to it. it the same emotions, the same feelings, the same everything- only difference is it keeps growing and getting more angry and poisonous.
it's killing me.
i keep waiting for it to go away. i keep trying to find ways to purge it or look past it or move on from it. but it seems everything, especially lately, keeps circling back to it and it's killing me. i'm depressed. i'm hiding from friends. i'm barely moving off the couch when i get home from work. i've reduced my circle of people to almost none and i keep fighting myself to not push the final few away. i'm SO ANGRY. all the time. and i actually AM angry instead of just feeling angry. it's affecting my actions, decisions, interactions, posture. i know the difference between feeling and being. and i'm being angry.
i know the hierarchy of negative: anger is a response to fear which is a response to pain which is a response to an unmet need (6 basic human needs: consistency, variety, significance, love/connection, growth, contribution). i know that the way to resolve/move past the hierarchy of negative is to find the need that's not being met, work on a solution.
i also understand that the solution i most desire is not possible and i'll have to find a way to be okay with that. THAT'S THE HARD PART. the solution i most desire are the significance and love/connection chunks. 2/6 of the whole. and the person i want those from, my mother, is the person least able to provide those pieces. and that makes me angry.
second verse, same as the first. you can see how this little circle can grow to be exhausting.
i think the hardest part for my logical brain is the denial, the lack of validation, being told that nothing i say is true or real and it will never be.
i don't just say things. my brain processes NON-STOP. it always has. i know what i'm saying is real and true. i know my experiences and my memories happened. to be ignored or told otherwise...it just does not compute. so i keep thinking. i keep trying to find another way to present the information hoping this time it will get through.
i'm sure this won't be my last attempt. but this is my biggest attempt. this is me purging all the poison. getting it all out in a logical, concise, concrete form. this is me coming to terms with those two missing pieces. this is my last shot at significance (value, importance) and love/connection. i'm laying it all down. i know i won't get the answer and the resolution i want. i know that my mother will never see it. i know that if she did it wouldn't change anything. i'll have to work on a way to be okay with that. but here's my letter. i want to be done with this anger and start moving forward again.
mom-
i hate you. i am so hurt and battle scarred from so many things from so many years. i hate that you are this overpowering negative voice in my head that i can't turn off. well, that i haven't learned to turn completely off anyway. the FUCK YOU that i yell every time i hear you is getting louder and stronger. but you're still there.
i hate that i can't wear the color red without hearing how it will make all my acne/flaws stand out. i hate that every time i look at my self in the mirror and think i look nice it's followed by "for someone your size." i hate that i feel like a bad mother when i want to buy a new shirt without buying one for my kids. i hate that every time i correct my kids or punish them i hear in my head "if anyone else saw the way you treat your kids they would turn you into the state." i hate that i feel shallow for liking curling irons and make up. i hate that i had to read the instructions on the tampon box because i couldn't ask my own mother about how to use them.
those are little things. there's so many more from the closet where those are stashed.
the real pain and anger has it's own fucking wing, not just a dark little closet.
i HATE that as far back as i can remember i was never wanted. i HATE that i know you didn't want to get pregnant and you were on birth control and my dad was having an affair with the nurse and that made it a terrible delivery and the whole thing from day one was torture for you. i hate that not only was i mistake from the beginning, but you drilled it into my head my whole life.
i HATE that when you got married the second time it was "because you needed help raising your son."
where do i even begin with that one? did i not exist? did you not care about raising me?
how about the other side of that coin? how far it has pushed me to NOT be that single mother that "needs help raising her kids." do you know that is one of the biggest reasons i'm single? because the minute any guy mentions that maybe i need help, i rebel and instantly get rid of him to not be that weak, pathetic mom that will marry any abusive pedophile to take over for her.
i hate that you didn't even notice me until my brother had graduated high school and gone off to college. i was 15 the first time you noticed i had a sense of humor and 24 the first time you told me that. i hate i was threatened and bullied from grade school through high school and all i got were lectures about how to make friends. how many hours did i spend researching bible verses about how to be a better friend because it must be my problem? i hate that when my brother told me he was ashamed of me and embarrassed by me for being into theater and books- instead of defending me or letting me be myself you encouraged me to do things he approved of. HOW FUCKED UP IS THAT? you cared more about him not being embarrassed in front of his friends than about who i was. i hate that when i had problems you shoved me in counselor after shitty ass counselor instead of just talking to me yourself.
i hate that when i got pregnant the your response was "well, we've been expecting this." did assuming the worst about me just come natural? did you even care that it was my FIRST time? did you even ask? did you really not care enough to talk to me before hand? if you expected it, why didn't you even attempt to...ANYTHING? you worked at the community health clinic for fucks sake. education. birth control. ANYTHING. instead, not only was prevention ignored, i was shoved into the fucking abstinence class when i was seven fucking months pregnant. i mean. WHAT THE FUCK?
i hate that when i was in an abusive marriage all you could do is point out over and over again all his affairs and how horrible and damaging it was, but when i left you couldn't help me because he worked at the same business as your husband and you didn't want to make it awkward for them at work. ME, MY TWO CHILDREN. your own child and your grandchildren. DOMESTIC VIOLENCE. and you didn't want it to be awkward for two grown men at work.
i hate that you never listened to me. i hate that you asked me to attend counseling with you only to be looked straight in the face and called a liar. i hate that you told me, without hesitation, without second thought that nothing i say will ever be true. i hate that when i talked about things that happened to me growing up you looked at the counselor and said "she's making things up in her head." i hate that when the counselor asked you if you heard what you said about your own daughter YOU REPEATED IT. you bold faced called me a liar and a crazy person in the same sentence. YOU. SAID. THAT. ABOUT. ME.
i hate how weak and ignorant you choose to be. i hate that you are not only married to but stand up and defend a pedophile even though it cost you ever having any type of a relationship with me ever again. i hate that you defend him. i hate that you still have small children in your home around him. i hate that you make excuse after excuse for his behavior. i hate that you refuse to do anything about it and are so willingly allowing him to hurt other people. i hate that you are so stupid to sign a pedophiles name to children's birthday cards. i hate that you have no clue how many teenage and high school kids your husband has on facebook. i HATE that when i told you how he had groomed me growing up you looked me straight in the eye and said "what do you want me to do? it already happened." i hate that you shamed me into keeping quiet so he thought it would be ok to start grooming my child. i hate how you tried to blame my three year old child for making things up in order to excuse your husband. i hate that you choose to be ignorant against the statement and conclusions and opinions of several professionals.
i hate that i have tried to cut you out of my life but you're still there. i hate that i had to cut my own mother out to protect my family. i hate that when i my dad died i needed my mom and you weren't there. i hate that when teenager moved away i needed my mom and you weren't there. i hate all the bad days and holidays and occasions when i just want a mom to talk to, when i need someone to tell me everything will be ok- there's no one there. i hate that every time someone ask about my family i have to tell them i have none.
i hate that you're the voice in my head. i hate that you're the example i grew up with. i hate that i'm trying SO HARD not to be you that i have no clue what i need to be.
i hate that i have been cut out of my sons life. i hate the pain that i feel from it. i hate that i know you must feel the same pain. i hate that i feel bad for you.
i hate that i'm questioning my decisions. i hate that my choosing to protect my kids is even remotely blurred with your refusal to protect yours. i hate the irony: the thing i most need help with right now is the exact same thing that's keeping us apart. a child so angry at their parent that they can't talk to them. my choice to cut you out to prevent one kind of damage has instead been replaced by another.
i hate the thought that my son could feel the same way about me that i feel about you. i have tried so hard to protect him and stand up for him and go to battle for him. you have never once done that for me. i'm worried he doesn't see the difference and that makes me so angry. all he sees is the dysfunction. i hate that i've been forced to choose between protecting him and having my mother. i hate that this fucked up mess is the example he'll grow up with.
i hate that i'll never be of value to you. i hate that i'll never be accepted. i hate all the negatives. i hate that you're so scared of whatever you're scared of that you've chosen to stay where you are. i hate that you've chosen to stay with an abuser. i hate i'll never be good enough for you to choose.
that's a LOT of hate.
a LOT of poison.
i now from here i need to learn how to let go of all that. i need to find out who and what i want to be and quit focusing on what i don't want to be. i need to turn off her voice in my head and find my own voice. i need to stop looking for value and significance from others and find it in myself. i'm not sure what all that looks like, but i'm ready to find out. i'm tired of being angry. i'm tired of carrying all this bullshit with me. i'm tired of drinking the poison.
i know i have a long unknown path from here to healthy. i don't know what tools i'll need. i don't know which direction to go. but i'm ready to find out.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
family legacy
my grandmother is 81 years old. it’s not the longest run in history, but it’s a damn good one. it’s interesting to think that she was born in 1929. that was the year of the wall street crash, the beginning of the great depression, the st valentines day massacre, the opening of the san fransisco bay bridge. in the same year martin luther king jr was born as well as audrey hepburn and anne frank. (read more here: 1929)
i found out last wednesday night that my grandmother has cancer. she will not be a cancer survivor. this will be the final chapter for her. by the time they found the cancer it was beyond any treatment options. the best they can do now is give her pain meds (which she doesn’t like to take because they make her too groggy) and wait for the end.
i’m angry at the universe about this. i get that 81 is a good run, but this is NOT a fair way for this amazing woman to go. there is NOTHING fair about this. here’s why:
my grandma is where i get my rebellious streak. there’s pictures of her in college holding hands with boys. i know- doesn’t sound so scandalous until you realize she went to a college with separate mens and womens dorms. not very unheard of at the time. but then you look in the background of the pictures and you see signs about men and women not being allowed to fraternize together. pictures of her holding hands with a boy with a sign about no fraternizing in the background. there’s also a picture of her and several girlfriends standing on a wall directly over a sign that says “no sitting or standing on this wall.” she had a strong wild streak to her. granted, i’m basing this off two pictures, but they do say a pictures worth a thousand words. she was also very in love with her first husband and there may or may not have been less than 9 months between their marriage and the birth of their first son. unfortunately at that time it was not at all something that people could deal with like they pretended to do when it happened to me (minus the marriage part). it caused a rift in her family and she was (i believe) disowned due to it. if not actually disowned it caused a large rift that caused great pains later on.
my mum was born in 1955 when my grandmother was 25 or 26 (forgive me, i don’t know her exact birthday- we’ll stick with 26). a few months before my mum was born my grandmother’s husband was killed in a plane accident. i can’t even imagine. 26, baby on the way, suddenly alone. in 1955. additionally, my mum has 3 older brothers. at 26 my grandmother was a sudden single parent of 3 small boys and a baby on the way. can you even imagine? i made the choice to become a single parent at 23 leaving my marriage. granted, not a choice i really wanted to make at the time, but still it wasn’t like having my whole life ripped from me. it was damn hard with two little guys. i can’t even begin to imagine three small boys and a baby on the way. she had to scrape together a few thousand dollars to have his body railed (yes, by train) back to his family AND pay for burial costs. you’d think at a time like this her family would step in and help. remember that whole great pains? they wouldn’t help. his family stepped in to help, but still. she was on her own. talk about a hard knock. she did it though.
in 1958 she married again and had two more kids. six total. that alone deserves sainthood.
now. our family has pretty tight lips when it comes to history but over the years i’ve heard a few things consistently enough to know that there’s a strong truth to them. still, please understand that this is a generation removed and a that no one is willing to talk about what went on.
my grandmother’s second husband is a pretty horrible person in my opinion. he is the type of person that never had qualms about using brute force to get his way. my mum talked only a few times about growing up with him and it was never good. one thing she remembered was my grandmother in the bathroom giving birth while he was in the kitchen demanding dinner. she talks about how when they got in trouble as kids (which was a continual thing due to the type of person he was) he would grab whatever was handy to beat them- a hairbrush, a belt, a metal rod. my grandmother and the kids went through this- no one escaped. in addition to that demeanor, he was also very politically defiant. he has strong ties to branches of the aryan nations and different supremacy groups. it was not 6 degrees of separation to our family when things like ruby ridge happened. it was maybe 1 or 2. hell, the wingnut even started his own “church” and considers himself a minister. hand in hand with all that goes a distrust of modern medicine, resistance to “government tracking” (drivers licenses and birth certificates), stockpiling weapons and food for the end of the world- the batshit crazy just goes on and on. did you know that if you eat mushrooms and ham you’ll catch aids? and that if you snort enough cyan pepper you can cure cancer? (one snort and i would NEVER complain about another medical problem as long as i lived. kind of like the egyptian answer to headaches). he is, to the core, in every way possible, a terrible person. even now, as my grandma is immobilized by cancer he’s demanding that she just needs to get up and walk more and she’ll be better. he gets angry with her for struggling through the pain and being confused or groggy. he talked yesterday about the “good old days” and how when they would argue she would simply say “you’re the head of the household” and that would be the end of the discussion. does anyone else catch the undertone to a discussion like that?
my mum did her best to keep my brother and i away from that whole mess growing up, one thing i am extremely grateful to her for. we rarely visited my grandmothers ranch and we NEVER spent time alone there.
53 years. my grandmother has endured 53 years of abuse after losing the love of her life, having her family shun her and being left on her own in 1955 with three kids and one on the way. she stuck with it because it’s what her generation does. you stay. there is no other option.
and she still maintained the beautiful person that she is. hidden in there peeking out when the coast is clear is that rebel. the amazing woman that gave me my love of vintage books. the first person in our family to go to college. the young lady in the picture standing on the forbidden wall. the woman that i look up to for what she went through and continues to go through. she raised six kids. SIX. she ran the ranch for over 20 years with “small” gardens that would put most gardens to shame (ACRES of gardens). she provided food for countless families that passed through and stayed on the land at different times. she made (and hand tied) quilts for all 9 of us grandkids. every year since my kids started school she helped make sure all their supplies were provided. visiting her over the last week i’ve still seen an amazing sense of humor, beautiful intelligence, unimaginable strength and patience. it breaks my heart to think of how much i missed out on growing up because of what she was stuck enduring.
and i’m angry at the universe because she never got a break. a few years ago her husband was very sick and it didn’t look like he was going to last very long. i was so excited for her thinking that finally she would be away from his tyranny. she would be able to get a nice little place in town and live a few years of her life in peace. a few years away from the constant abuse. a few years with her kids who had all distanced themselves as adults. a few years with grandkids, great grandkids that had been kept at a distance. instead he’s pulled through and is in fine health (aside from dementia) and she’s in the worst possible pain, completely overtaken with cancer and no chance of pulling through. no chance of peace. no chance to have the life she deserved. no chance to be the beautiful independent, free spirited woman she once was. i’m so angry. i’m so filled with hate and rage to see the scales once again not balance out. i don’t understand how the universe works. i don’t understand why things like this happen.
i’m also terrified.
my grandmother has lived with 53 years of abuse. my mother grew up in that household. i have to acknowledge that experience and how it shaped her adult life and approach to relationships. i have no question that her marriage to my dad was unhealthy. i love my father with everything i am, but i am not blind to his faults. i know that he had affairs. i know that he was young and didn’t treat my mother the best he could have. i know they were both young and both came from hard upbringings and didn’t have the healthiest examples of how to be a young married couple. i honestly believe that my mother would have stuck with him forever if he hadn’t come home and announced he was in marriage counseling. with the other woman. if he hadn’t left, my mother never would have. she would have stuck in an unhealthy relationship because it’s what you do. how do i know this? because she’s doing it now. she’s married again to a horrible man. a man that has lied to her, mistreated her, hidden things from her, abused her kids. she is in an abusive relationship now and she is sticking with it because that’s what you do. my grandmother married a second time because she needed help raising four young children. my mother married a second time because she needed help raising two young children. both stuck out abusive marriages because it’s what you do.
i’m TERRIFIED. i’m TERRIFIED to be a third generation of this. and i KNOW i’ve already broken the mold. i was in an abusive marriage and I GOT OUT. but the fact remains that i was in an abusive marriage. i followed their steps. i did it. i married an abuser. a third generation. i did get out, but i’m TERRIFIED that i don’t know any better. i don’t know what a healthy relationship is. i don’t know how people are supposed to work together. i don’t know what the good things are to look for and it’s damn hard shopping when you’re only going off the avoid list.
on the other end i’m terrified of avoiding relationships and not trying to find someone to try to give my kids a healthy example to look up to. no example is just as damaging as a bad example. they need something good and healthy and strong to learn from and aspire to. but i don’t know how to give that to them. i only know that i want to protect them from an unhealthy one. i don’t want to fuck up a fourth generation. i don’t want my kids to look back 15 years from now and be in the same boat facing the same fears and the same bad experiences. how do you fix things like this? how do you unlearn what you grew up with? how do you change the family legacy? i don’t want to be the third generation single mother who marries for help and stays no matter what.
and so what do you do? you’re terrified to get stuck in a bad one and terrified to not have one at all. i want to break the cycle. i want to be the generation that does it right. i want to be the generation that is healthy and happy and successful in a partnership. i just have no fucking clue where to start.
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