all the pieces

one of the problems with prolonged or repeated trauma is the inevitable blending together of memories and your brain hiding some of the worst ones from you to protect yourself. into the little tupperware container and into the back of the mind they go.

then one day, you’re getting ready for work on a random wednesday morning and a news story pops the seal on that little tupperware container and all the memories come back out, separate, individual, all the small pieces that make up the bigger label that went on the container.

this particular box is a pretty dusty old one. one would think the layer of dust would mean the issue has solved itself. undisturbed means it's fine, right?

apparently not.

this morning on the news, october 21, 2026, since the headlines change by the minute and even a big news story slides into obscurity in the length of an egg timer, a female is running for an elected position. her male opposition ran a tv ad featuring the woman’s estranged mother stating the female is a liar.

sure. whatever. political theater. family issues. not the first time it’s made the news.

this story though. this story.

WHY was the mother estranged? her husband was convicted, not accused, CONVICTED of rape. of the female running for office. when she was a child. the state stepped in. the children (there was a sibling) were removed from the home. the mother stayed with the husband. all this information has all been forced into public knowledge as the result of this ad. the mother in question? has been estranged since the incident. the “liar” the mother refers to in the political ads? her own 12 year old daughter who was brave enough to speak about the abuse.

this woman, YEAR and YEARS later is still clinging to the fact that her own daughter must be a liar instead of admitting a man, convicted by the courts multiple times for being a rapist piece of shit, is indeed, a rapist piece of shit. enough to put that fucked opinion into a television ad.

the woman running for office faced the assault, the betrayal of her mother, the life changes that resulted from the loss of her childhood, and now, again, is being assaulted and attacked using the same abuse all over again. every shithead news pundit with some shitty hot take. every extremist nutjob with no conscience. every fuckhead abuser trying to protect themselves or another abuser.

what does this have to do with my wednesday morning and the tupperware spill?

my abuse is old. my mother has been dead to me for years. i’ve sorted and worked through and dealt with all the pieces in this container…all…but

well…fuck.

i forgot about a few pieces.

why does everyone know about this news headline? the woman’s opponent used it against her. everyone now knows about the abuse because another man used it to abuse her with.

the same thing happened to me.

i clearly remember the LAST time i told my mother about what happened. i haven’t talked to her since.

a few weeks ago, i remembered the first time someone else said something- my mother had been called to the principal’s office in jr. high because friends had reported concerns. i wasn’t allowed to be friends with them anymore after that. 

this morning i remembered the first time i told my mother about what happened, and further, WHY i had to tell her.

i was already out of the house. well past jr. high. i was already away from all of it. no one needed to know.

i only ever told one person about everything. i was married. i trusted my husband. right?

then we separated. i was pregnant with my second kid. my husband told me the only way we could live together again is if i told my mom everything.

he used it against me.

i had to choose: my husband or my mother. the family i was building or the family i had.

i told my mom. she said, “what do you want me to do about it, it already happened.”

i didn’t know. i didn’t have an answer for that. but it satisfied the requirement for my husband and we moved back in together (which lasted one more year before i left for good).

i stuffed it back down. i did my part. i spoke up. i had told people. they didn’t know what to do. i didn’t know what to do. so nothing got done.

years later, divorced, single parenting again, i had moved to a bigger city, my kids were growing. things stayed in tupperware boxes. life went on.

one day i got a call from daycare about my youngest son.

the problem when nothing happens is people think they got away with it.

my son had started showing behaviors and saying things about, “...well, papa said…”

THE FUCK YOU SAY?

i had very, very many unkind things to say to my mother. her response, “...abusers don’t change sexes. it doesn’t make sense if he abused you that he would go after a male now.”

ARE. YOU. FUCKING. KIDDING. ME???

i cut contact. i tried to be kind to my kids: you know when the teachers and the doctors tell you if anyone is bad or mean to you or touches you in a way they’re not supposed to? papa is one of those bad people. we have to stay away from him. i didn’t want to make it scarier than it already was.

my mom called me a liar. still tried to contact my kids. i spent years sending back christmas presents and birthday cards. it is, to me, extremely inappropriate for a child to get a gift or card from a pedophile. i know, me and my extreme takes.

i was disinvited from family events. i was disinvited from holidays. i was being too rigid. i was being too extreme. my dad and my brother are cops. they will make sure nothing happens. why am i being so stubborn and rebellious?

TOO. FUCKING. LATE.

then my dad died.

i only had one parent left.

maybe i was being too rigid. maybe i was being too extreme. it’s my mom. she’s all i have left.

so i went to a therapy session with her.

she told the therapist, “...do you hear her? she just makes stuff up in her head.”

the therapist looked at her, “Do you understand what you just said about your own daughter?”

i told my mother that day she’s dead to me. in the parking lot of the therapist office.

“I need you to understand, I understand the full weight and impact of the words I am saying. I just lost my father. I have no mother. I am an orphan from this day forward. You are dead to me.”

so she added my kids on facebook. and bought them plane tickets to go see her. she told them how crazy i am. what i liar i am. about how the abuse that had happened to me had actually happened to them and i was just lying about it. she got both my kids to turn against me.

she can’t *actually die* fast enough.

she continued to run a home daycare for years. they hosted numerous foreign exchange students.

after the last time i confronted her, her husband went before their church to confess his sins. then they changed churches. to a church in a different town. then they moved across the country.

over time her story went from “it happened, what do you want me to do about it,” to “you make up stories in your head.”

my ex-husband used it against me.

my mother used it against me.

the abuse is one thing. you think you got away from it. you think you mostly recovered as much as you can from it.

then these fuckers come along and just double down. and that part is the part that my brain tried to hide for a long time.

as usual, i don’t know the point. maybe just putting all the pieces together in order for the first time. seeing all of them, in one place, in order.

it’s breathtaking when you recognize the full scope.

the healing struggle makes a little more sense.

spitball take: working through it as we go, what if finally being able to see all the pieces as one whole picture is what it takes to finally let that go? get that tupperware box out of storage, stop taking up brain space?

i can look at the whole thing. all the ugly pieces. all of them. yeah, it was that bad. for that long. yeah, they are that mean. yeah, they are that terrible. no, it isn’t just you. no, there’s nothing you could have done to deserve it, you were a child. you were right to protect yourself. you were right to protect your kids. you didn’t know what to do, but you tried to do something.

be who you needed: this is one more piece of why i believe women. this is one more reason why i will stand with a woman ten toes down when she needs me. i will stand in a hospital room with you. i will stand in a courthouse with you. i will stand in the damn uhaul rental office with you while we get a truck to get away. i will hug you and listen to you and cry with you and BELIEVE you. 

and now i can throw that tote away. i can see the bottom. it’s emptied. i know it. that’s enough for me.

tonight i’ll burn a candle. i’ll let out the tears i’ve been holding since this morning. i’ll release it all. maybe, finally, for the last time.

what do you do?

**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.

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.

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.

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?

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.