Another lesson

Growing up we had our food portioned onto our plates, based on our preferences and what the meal contained. One of the frequently prepared meals was one of sausage, eggs and hash browns. I didn’t get eggs (I can’t stand them), so I would get one more sausage. But my mother and brother were still given more (by my mother herself). Which would have been fine, except I could eat as much as my brother. And my brother would always steal one of my sausages without getting reprimanded for it. Even though I objected to it every time. He still steals my food to this day.
Recently this was brought up at a family gathering, and my mother claimed that it had no consequences. That he doesn’t do it anymore. I told her that she was wrong. She didn’t believe me that it taught him that he doesn’t have to take what I say seriously. I didn’t tell her that it taught me that objecting to bad behavior gets you no where. And reinforces the fact that I’m insignificant and worthless. I couldn’t convey how much it hurt that he didn’t get into trouble for taking my food, when I did, if I tried to take his.


Not Able-bodied Or Disabled

So, I am one of the many people in the world who have invisible health problems. Some people only have one, some people have a lot. Some people are more effected by their one issue then another’s many issues. Which is why I’ve come to realise that, like sexuality and many other things, able-bodied and disabled isn’t “one or the other” it’s a spectrum. One I don’t have a clear spot in. Because I’m neither injured or sick enough to be disabled, nor will I ever be well enough to consider myself able-bodied. But I’m also one of those who have multiple health issues that effect me.

The reason I do not consider myself disabled is fairly simple. First my issues are relatively invisible, the only time you will see evidence of them is when I’m at work, where I get 2 very minor accommodations. And my accommodations make me seem lazy, rather then disabled/injured; I get to kneeling on a step ladder when standing still at certain tasks, and sit down on a stool for other tasks that would stress my lower leg. The only other effect is that certain activities trigger my asthma, but I either avoid those tasks, or I wear the proper protective equipment everyone else ignores. So, when I think disabled I think of a person who has health issues severe enough that it actively impedes on their daily life, not something they occasionally give a thought to.

But then you go to the normal side, and I don’t fit there either. Maybe if I had fewer, or different, issues I could consider myself normal. But my health issues do impact my life, and I do have to consider them in any plans I make. They just don’t usually significantly detour them. And even a couple years ago, my answer would have been different, before I realised that there was/could be a middle ground.

So, what are my health issues? To start with the least troublesome thing, allergies. I have a genetic predisposition to forming severe allergies. I haven’t so far, but it is something I’m concerned about, since I’m very sensitive to Tylenol (and anything else, like Buckley’s, that has acetaminophen in it), While I can handle small doses (like 200mg) with out very noticeable effect, more then that and I’m feeling at least 10x worse then before I took it, it’s hard to describe since I’ve only taken it when I was already sick (and the last time it made me extremely drowse in addition to feeling worse). I also have infrequent allergies that trigger my asthma immediately, though I am usually fine as soon as I remove myself from the triggering environment, or remove the allergen from my environment. The things that trigger this reaction are certain lip glosses or chap-sticks, certain scents (in any form), and a cleaner my store uses on their oven (sprayed into the air).

Then there is my sight, which isn’t bad when I use corrective lenses, but wearing glasses actually impacts my life a fair bit. It effects my depth perception (the glasses make things look a bit smaller and thus in a different spot when they leave my “corrected” field of view), I cannot see clearly without them, more then about 4-6 inches in front of me. Which makes it hard for me to go swimming, see small dangerous objects (or large ones if my glasses fall off), and gives me tunnel vision. In the winter I have to decide if I want to breath or see, since wearing a scarf causes my glasses to fog up, but not wearing on triggers some of my worst asthma attacks. My eyes are also fairly light sensitive, so if I’m wearing contacts I have to wear sunglasses, even when it’s completely overcast. And my glasses are expensive, first most frames are at least $100, then the basic lenses are usually the same price as the frames, then the traditional coatings I get (anti-glare, anti-scratch, anti-smudge) add more, then I get the transition lenses to combat my light sensitivity, which is also more. The last pair I got was at least $500. When I just get new lenses, it’s still more then $100. And as my eyes are still getting worse, that is an expense I’m going to be paying for regularly for the rest of my life (even if my eyes to finally stabilize, I’ll have to get new glasses when that pair wears out).

Then there is my mental illness, which is a lot better then it has been in 12 years, but still something that hampers me, probably only second to my asthma. Because Depression and Anxiety have really effected my life, and my anxiety is still trying to prevent me from doing necessary things (like getting to the doctor’s or dentist’s).  But it’s not something that’s physically there, so I rarely have thoughts like “what if it just snaps one day”? like I do for the next two issues.

I have Plantar Fascitis, I had it for years before I got treatment, because it was ignored by my mother. I have what I call “atypical” plantar fascitis, because I have no heel pain, rather I get arch pain, either sharp stinging, or aching arch pain. Sometimes, I get hints that it’s going to be hurting, and I can act on it to prevent it from getting worse, other times, I take a step, and *poof* sharp agonizing pain. And my $400 custom orthotics help, but they aren’t prefect (and I think I’ll need to pop out another $400 next year (because  I don’t have the money this year), since my feet have gotten a bit better, so they might need a better cast,) and so sometimes I have to stuff my shoes with something else, either to prevent movement above my foot, or to help support the arch by placing something between it and my arch support. Which stops the pain, sometimes (and sometimes, I have to do the complete opposite, and loosen my shoes….).

Then in march 2013 I fell and landed on some rough ice. My leg hurt and I went to the doctor’s, he said I just bruised the bone. Well I don’t know if that’s true or not, but it took 6 months and a new pair of shoes to get it to stop hurting, and it still occasionally ached. Now it’s acting up again. Which is so lovely *sarcasm*.

Last of all is my asthma. Technically, my symptoms aren’t severe, but it’s rather easy to trigger. I sweep/mop the floor at work too hard and poof I have an asthma attack. I walk the two minutes to work, and depending on the weather/temperature I can trigger an asthma attach. walking up hills, biking, running, all trigger asthma attacks really easily. pollution triggers horrible asthma attacks, where I’m coughing every couple seconds, and each time this happens it is worse, and takes more to stop it (okay I’ve only had it happen 3 times, but the last episode lasted 4 months. I think I’ve narrowed it down to high levels of pollution and wood smoke (like from forest fires, or really wet/cold summers)). My last big asthma attack even changed my symptoms a bit. Rather then just get tightness of the chest, or difficulty breathing, more frequently they are coughing asthma attacks. Which I didn’t suffer from before. And they don’t always respond to my inhaler, so I have to take advil cold and sinus, since it was the only thing that worked on my last big asthma attack. Which makes me feel like a friggin pill popper since I need to have them (and regular advil for random head aches or other pain) on me at all times, along with my inhaler.

So yeah, they are things people don’t see, things that make my life just hard enough I don’t consider myself normal, but they aren’t bad or visible enough for me to feel like I can call myself disabled. Especially since I have ways to fix/fight/control most of them.

Removing my Grandma from my life

So many moons ago I said I might explain why I have decided to remove my grandma from my life. I mean I love her, she does a lot of things for me, so why can’t I have her in my life?

Because she can’t be who I need her to be. And while she does good things for me, and I value them, it’s not enough to compensate for what she doesn’t do. Especially when she expects me to maintain an active relationship with my mother. I regret that the decision is necessary, but I was only the person who uncovered the line (I didn’t consciously draw it, only found it when it’d been tripped). I’m not the one who crossed it. And I’m sorry, the guilt tripping, gas lighting, neglect, and disregard in most areas of my life just add up to total more then the good.

When I move out, all that will be left is the bad stuff. The good will be gone. So the good:

she does everything a parent does for free (hey, I try to buy a washer, she refuses.) that’s a fair bit, and I acknowledge that I don’t help out enough. (for those who wonder what I’m including: dishes, laundry, making food, cleaning up after both of us (90% is her mess), taking the garbage out (she’s up at 3am on garbage day))

She drives me around.

She listens to me vent

The bad things:

When she listens to me vent she puts me down by saying “you need to get over it” or “you need to stop caring about what people say”

She claimed she would teach me to drive, but never followed through.

She wants me to maintain a relationship with my mother…

…and ignores (and thus implicitly condones) my mother’s bad behaviour.

…and expects me to just not let my mother’s abusive behaviour affect me.

She knew I was depressed and had General/social anxiety. and ignored it. Claiming that I needed to realize something was wrong when I was a fucking child under 12.

She has had 3 years to learn that I cannot hear her when I’m in my room, and still gets pissed when I don’t. She’s had 5.5 years to learn I tune out when I read (especially since the first 2.5 years I lived in the living room, where she was when not sleeping or working). And I mention it whenever I put on my headphones, and she still gets pissed when I don’t hear her.

She refuses to acknowledge that she favoured my brother in many things. main thing demanding I play games with him, when I refused to. (she claims I would demand everyone else do so, but never reciprocate. I disagree. And even still, it doesn’t make it right.)

She feels she can control my actions (tells me I cannot go to a fair alone at 23, or a bar (when I barely drink. If I were a heavy drinker I’d understand it. but my purpose was dancing not drinking))

She tells me my valid emotions aren’t valid.

She won’t mention something off until after someone else does, or it’s been dealt with (or is past being dealt with)

she can sit and watch TV with me puking near her without even asking if I need anything (paper towel, glass of water)

She doesn’t understand my anxiety and depression, but has enabled my mother’s for at least 30 years.

She hates my books but would accept the same behaviour if it were a video game or my computer  If I was in the front room playing it.

If I like something, and she doesn’t I don’t feel like I can do/wear it (e.g. wearing face paint or my corsets)

If I disagree with her she tries to guilt me by saying she doesn’t know what she’s talking about, and is stupid. (The tone of voice and way she says it, and the way she uses the phrase about work, make me 100% sure about this)

She expects me to stuff as much stuff as I can in my tiny tiny room (like 7x7ft) with a tiny closet, and do everything like she does. Then she doesn’t understand when my room doesn’t stay clean.

Thinks that just because she only has a tiny bit of clothing she wears, I don’t need to have as much as I do (like she could fit her wardrobe, undies and socks included in one suitcase).

She wants me to spend more time with her, but then bitches when I fidget (I am a big fidgetter. Especially when I get excited, I have to move a lot. And reading frequently triggers this) . I’ve always done this.

The me she wants me to be, for what I’ve seen, has little in common with the me I am, and where I want to go.

Lost on Logic and Reaffirmation

English: Emotions Q-sort

English: Emotions Q-sort (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Why do I complain so much.? Why can’t I let go of the past? Why do some things bug me until I discuss them with multiple people? Why do I double guess most of the stuff I do?  I don’t really know. At least not completely, and any answer could be unreliable. But I am beginning to think that it’s at least partially caused by my inability to trust my reactions to events. And if that doesn’t make sense, I’ll try to explain. Through out my childhood, and even now, I’ve been told certain reactions were unacceptable. And some of these reactions were reasonable , Combine this with my anxiety, and later depression, and you have someone who was taught, maybe not on purpose, that they cannot trust their gut instincts, their logic.

Then add in a controlling parent, who makes you ask to do anything. Or at least, I did, if only to try and prevent getting yelled at, and this might have been my anxiety making my mother’s reactions worse,. But that was the reality, If I was worried that she would forget something and I reminded her (and my grandma is the same), she would get pissed. Yet then she would get pissed and say it was my own fault if she forgot. Or I would say I wanted to do something (FREE) and she would claim that we would do it, and purposefully arrange it so we couldn’t claiming “she didn’t think I actually wanted to”.

And even if it were not words, I’m constantly fidgeting, So much so it irritates my family and people around me. I can try to control the larger ‘episodes’, but to do so is to suppress the emotions I feel  (not that I always know the exact emotion or thought). And after being depressed, and being unable to really feel my emotions (which still aren’t 100% there, I think) I can’t do that constantly. It actually makes me feel sad. But as a child I was constantly corrected, told to stop fidgeting by my mother, even when other children would have been able to fidget (like during a musical performance at school).

So now I immediately question any action I do, or reaction I have. I question my right to do things. I ‘need’ constant reaffirmation (and I hate it that I do) that the past was as bad as I think it was. And at the same time, my reliving the past, it’s to show that my mother isn’t a good person, and that’s why I can’t have her in my life (which is another choice that I need reaffirmation on). Because I either don’t trust my internal compass, or in some cases, I’m not getting a reading from it at all.

Letter To Myself

You know about those letter you are supposed to write yourself, to your past self, to change something or what ever. This is one of those. Well actually it’s one post with multiple letters

Dear Kathlynn

congratulations you have finished Gr.5. you know that thing you are denying? tell some one. Please. I know you don’t want to believe it’s wrong. You don’t want to believe your daddy would do it. But he is. Tell an important person. But not your mommy, she might not believe you. Tell your teacher, or grandma T. You telling is a good thing. And if you don’t tell, that’s okay too. But I want you to know that it is wrong, it is happening, and there are people around who would help you. And those emotions you are feeling tell some one about them. Not your mommy she will deny them. Not your family either. Tell a teacher. They are not normal. Though your fear of spiders and crossing roads are understandable.

Also you are a wonderful awesome person. I wish I was still like you. Also, please study, please? pretty please? you will buy yourself books and chocolate if you do!

Your older, wiser self.


Dear Kathlynn

Hurray, you just started gr.9. Please tell someone. You are depressed. You do need the treatment you want. The attention you don’t think you have the right to demand. Your mother is the bitch you are starting to think of her as. And, while it’s hard, try to push yourself past your learned fear of social services and get out of that house. you will thank me for it. They can place you with your family or a nice family else where (remember N). It will do you good. Your mother is depressed as well. That doesn’t excuse her behaviour, but you are right, there is something wrong with her. Please get help. Your mom will just deny it, but maybe if you tell someone else you will get the help you need. Also, Study you idiot. There is still time to learn how. You will thank yourself a lot sooner then you think.

Your, older wiser self

Dear Kathlynn

Congratulations you just finished gr.11. Do not take that job at Huskey. Don’t, it’s not worth it, in any way. You will regret it. Go to grandma’s with some resumes and try to get a job there. Maybe you’ll even get to stay there. Also don’t bother taking that test in biology next year, you are going to fail it, ’cause you never studied. And don’t put off applying for schools. Go for your dreams as soon as you can, because if you don’t you won’t have the courage to do them in the future.

Also, your feelings, they aren’t normal, please get help. Please, you need it.

your sadder self

Dear Kathlynn

Thank you, thank you so much for getting help. I know why we didn’t go sooner. But it will get better. The glow will dim, but the numbness? it is a sign of depression. I know right, why didn’t they tell us that in school? But it will go away, for at least 3 years. But now, now you need to focus on getting better. And getting your license so you can boogie out of grandma’s. It’s not going to be good for much longer. Go before you are trapped there. Also, Ter is awesome, Wile Tra and LD suck. Do not stay in the sorority. It’s not worth it. Really it’s going to get bad, and it’s not worth it. This year will be awesome, but the next one will suck. Remember the church group, yeah it will be just like that. except with judgemental bitches, who cannot accept you for who you are.


Remembering Myself

So, I don’t know if anyone else feels this way. I have at least mostly gotten past my depression. I still struggle with my anxiety. Which is my own fault as I’m not really doing anything to get over it. But otherwise I’m feeling the best I have since I was 10. Yup 14 years of struggling through depression. almost 24 years of suffering with anxiety. So most of my memories are tainted by the emotions triggered by (or triggering) my depression and anxiety. Sometimes, remembering the past is fine. I hate how much I dwell on it, but There isn’t really much I can do, besides avoid talking about it. Which I do (when I can control that impulse). Other times, usually when I’m more reflective, I think back and I can still feel the depression feelings. And it scares me, really scares me. To know I felt that hopeless, that confused. And I hate it. It triggers my anxiety; I’m terrified that my depression will come back, and that this time I won’t get help. That I will be too hurt, too broken, too depressed to get help. Or if I do they won’t help me, or it won’t work. Generally I can ignore the feeling that it’s right out there on the edge of my conscience waiting to pounce. Waiting for me to get weak again. But when I think of the past I can’t ignore it, because the feelings, they don’t feel old then, they feel fresh, my mind brings them back, and it makes me want to cry. It’s scary, to me it really is.

English: An anxious person

English: An anxious person (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

^this is totally how I’m feeling right now^

If You Think Somethings Wrong Tell Them

So a week or two ago mental illness came up in my family. I won’t dredge up the whole conversation, but it really upset me. While I disagree with their claim that my whole family suffers from depression I will not dismiss the possibility completely (given the fact that my brother thinks the entire population does, I’m not sure they grasp what it means. And when they say things like that it diminishes my pain, via the way they say it). What pisses me off is my grandma knowing my whole life that I have anxiety issues, and that I developed depression before I was even 11 and thought the best thing to do was “let me figure out something was wrong” I was maybe 11 when I tried to commit suicide, I struggled with self worth, thinking that yeah while people cared it was out of blood not because I was worth something. Struggled in so many ways, just to stay afloat, because I had been told by my mother, my all controlling mother that nothing was wrong. Thinking that something was wrong with me (self worth, not the “I’m mentally ill” way) to cause everyone to treat me the way they did. My mother even claimed they did.
Well you know what. I did tell my mother I thought I was depressed. According to my grandma I should have just known better.

So point of this story. If you think some one might be struggling with a mental illness say something. Else really you are just as responsible for their pain as the cause. If you bring it up to them or their family you could prevent a suicide, or self harm. You could make it easier for them to successfully get treatment (the longer some one suffers from mental illness the less likely they are to fully recover, if they can. And the more likely they are to relapse). And if or when they do find out you knew, well there will be consequences, especially if you are really close to the person or family. Though the more supportive you are, the less insensitive things you say, the better things will go for you. In my grandma’s case, well she just might lose a granddaughter, because I don’t know if I can forgive her this. She might just join my mother and brother in the list of “people I will no longer speak to when I’m completely independent”


Surviving Abuse Part II

So, this morning I open up my web browser and find that Michael Jackson , the late king of pop, has another sexual abuse aligation against him. By one of the young people who claimed he (MJ) had never abused him.  Then I read the comments talking about how he has to be lying now, since he said nothing was happening at the time. I cannot say which is true, except I will always believe the accuser in any case of abuse over the abuser, unless I’ve been given proof otherwise. I know people will say it’s not “guilty until proven innocent”, and while that’s true, in the case of abuse it pays to be prudent and take action to prevent further abuse.

I also know how scary it is to know or think that no one will support you if you say “___ abused me”. I know how it is to spend a decade lying to yourself, your family, the police, everyone, and say that nothing bad happened to you. I spent that long covering for my father. I spent even longer covering for my mother. Why? because as children we are taught not to say bad things about our parents. We are taught our parents love us the most, that they will never hurt us, that they know best. That if our parents do hurt us (spanking, for example) or get mad at us it’s our fault (we broke a rule). As I said before in Part I,  we are expected to forgive them, to keep them in our lives no matter what they did. We are told lies about what will happen if we contact the authorities (be it social services or the police). They could be the better parent, or the understanding uncle, the mother who seems to do anything for her kids (but emotionally abuses them, blames them for everything). Then there is the “bad things only happen to other people” mentality.  the thoughts are like this “It can’t be that bad, I’m blowing things out of proportion”, “It was only a bad dream, I made it, didn’t I (oh god I hope I was only dreaming)”, “It was my fault [insert reason] so it can’t be abuse” “dad would never do that”. Its scary, when it is happening, the person has made themselves important to you (or is an immediate family member), you don’t want that positive (because they need you to feel good, so you’ll get attached) influence in your life gone, but you don’t want to be active in letting the abuse happen (for sexual abuse), or because you are told you will loose your whole family if you get help (verbal abuse).

What kept going through my head with my father, like I said “this can’t be happening” “it has to be a dream” “oh god please shut up”, depending on the moment. Before his arrest for abusing someone else, he was the better parent, both my brother and I had so much more support from him, and life was so much better with him. I mean my mother was the emotionally abusive controlling bitch, my father was the supportive, but strict parent (who likes to touch little girls). My father’s abuse touched a lot less of my life (though I doubt would have stayed that way). So I told myself it couldn’t be happening. When he got arrested I kept hearing my mother (who would have no actual way of knowing, as she didn’t live with him at the time) deny what happened, saying they were making it up. If they were making it up, I had to be making it up, I couldn’t hurt my family this way, by admitting it (and wrecking my whole world). Not that these were conscious thoughts, I was only 11 or so at the time. Most of the denial, that lead me to deny what happened, it was completely unconscious. I actually was waiting for some one to say “stop lying kathlynn and tell us the truth” not that I would have. ’cause you know in a kids mind denial makes it the truth, I didn’t want it to happen, so it didn’t and I would deny it. And guess what. I came pre-brainwashed not to tell, since my mother was doing her own “programming” at the time, teaching me not to tell social services that she was emotionally abusive, kept the house a mess, and only got us medical treatment because of our dad (and his insurance), and later other family members some how forcing her to.

That’s why I don’t instantly dismiss the claims that he was abused, because it’s possible. Completely possible. Kids lie easier then adults some times, especially when they are lying to protect themselves and their families or friends. And when I read the comments about how he has to be lying now, because he denied it in the past, do you know what I hear? “yeah you were right to never go to the police kathlynn, when you stopped denying it happened, because no one will believe you” So EVERYONE who automatically says that the guy is a liar is supporting rapists every where, supporting rape culture, supporting child abuse. Because you are supporting the thought that no one will believe you, and that you are a big fat liar.


that’s all, just please people stop voicing this as your first thought, Please, even if it’s true, it effects more then just this case, it effect all abuse survives


reposibility and chores

Hi everyone. I want to write about a topic today, it might be hard to relate to my side.  And I know it will paint me as lazy, maybe selfish and stuff. But I hope that I will get my points across clearly so it doesn’t.

Growing up my mother never had a job, and never really kept the house clean, or assigned up chores. We did have chores at our dad’s, but weren’t ever there long enough for it to make a difference. As we got older my mother began to get upset because we didn’t keep our rooms clean, do dishes etc. And when your messy room is cleaner than the rest of the house, or you don’t have a proper storage space for your belongings you start to resent that, and well never clean up after yourself.

Truthfully, if there is a stay at home parent I do not think it should be the kids job to do any of the cleaning, except for the purpose of habit-forming and learning. Especially if the stay at home parent sits on their ass and watches TV all day, or plays on the computer or socializes. Which is what my mother did. Any chores that got done were assigned to my brother and I, which doesn’t mean that we always did them, but that they did get done. In spite of our asthma, or my brother’s allergies. (the dust from replacing cat litter for out 15 indoor cats always strongly triggered our asthma). If clothes were in our laundry bin for a year, beside the washer, it was our fault because [we exist and my mom cannot accept responsibility] we didn’t tell her. Same if the clothing was placed on the washer. “she didn’t know it was there.

I know my mother has at least on mental illness. So many of her actions are “caused” by them. But I cannot accept that to the extent that she let everything go, that it’s all mental illness. If it was just hoarding, that’d be one thing. but the blaming that went on, everything being my fault, or my responsibility. I cannot. Not when I’ve talked to other people who have it way worse for mental illness (like PTSD, DID, SI, ED) and they try to get better, rather than wallow in the problems. They work on doing something, rather than just sitting around doing nothing. And they don’t blame people for things they should have done. They also treat their mental illness once they know about it.

Besides from that, if you are at home, that is your job, taking care of the home. I’m not saying things should be spotless, that would be very hypocritical of myself (my room is a mess at this very moment). Assign the chores that you can’t get done to other family members. Don\t work yourself to the bone. But remember, while yes you do have a full-time job ( or two) taking care of the home, so does you possible spouse (if he/she doesn’t, tell them to get off their ass and get a job, or pitch in more), and any kids you have that are of school age. Especially kids of school age. Because school IS a full-time job, whether its elementary school, high school, or college. I know this is not the case for everyone, but when I was in high school, I went fairly academic, due to lack of alternative classes. Many of the science classes would give me at least one hour of homework a night, per class. same with the math. One semester I had math, biology, and chemistry. If I’d done the chemistry home work I would have had 5 hours of homework every night (I chose not to do it and just copy it from the back because I didn’t grasp the concepts and the teacher couldn’t help me understand it better… and she didn’t check the homework that often either). As it was I still have 4 hours, And I didn’t get home until 3:45-4pm, after taking the bus straight after school. So that puts away from home 7:40am- 3:45pm, homework from 4:30pm-8:30pm (if I remembered to do it, which I didn’t always, instead I’d do it in other classes). That leaves about 1.5 hours to do chores. Or relax. As someone who wasn’t in the habit of cleaning, yeah I’d choose relaxing over chores.

Now, living with my grandma, she has a little more room to complain, she keeps the house a little neater, she actually cooks supper, and washes the clothing unprompted (But then again I rarely have enough clothing to get washed on my own, else I’d pitch in there). And she works full-time. Which gains her a lot of ground. But when she expects me to help her clean the front room, or kitchen, beyond getting my stuff out of them, and collecting cans it annoys me. Because I’m not really allowed to have my things outside of my room (which is why it’s sooo messy, my room’s tiny and doesn’t have much space to organize everything). And because she will over react to the amount of stuff I have it those rooms. before I began to “live” in my room, She’d always be after me to get my books out of the front room and put them away, often it was like 5 book, once it was literally 1 book, she’s been going on and on about how my books were everywhere for a week, and I had one book in the front room (which is why it took me a week to do anything). She also judges how I do anything, so I’d cook more (and tried to, for a bit) but she’s constantly telling me to do [whatever I’m doing] differently. Or she gets upset when I don’t trust the milk, or something else we have.

I feel like, okay you want me to do more, tell me what you want me to do, a time frame (like “while I’m gone shopping”) and make sure I’m listening, and accept that I might forget and need reminded otherwise. (it’s a flaw of mine, tell me something while I’m reading, or if I have to switch my concentration too many times and I will forget (getting ready for the bus, to the bus, then through school, I’m going to forget to pick up the butter there’s at least 5 big things I’m focused on with countless other little things, and reading time).). And be consistent. You hear that advice on TV, in magazines, etc, all the time. It’s true, when you are not used to doing something, You Do NOT Think About It. While I should, I do not associate dishes being in the dishwasher meaning I should put them away (they may be dirty), or if it’s in a different spot (it moves). If it was mostly, or always done at a specific time, If I was reminded to do it when I’m not concentrating on something else, then I’d be more likely to do it. Rather then doing it occasionally and getting yelled at every few months for forgetting to. Not to say I shouldn’t try to (I do, but I’m more forgetful than the average person IMOP), or that she shouldn’t get mad at me for not putting them away.

Also people need to be clear in their expectations, things should be divided up evenly given consideration to all factors. Like age, gender, and knowledge on how to clean/cook, and free time. I say age, because if you are young you are probably be able to do more then an older person, maybe stronger as well. I say gender because truthfully, most guys are stronger than me, a female. So yeah, I’m getting the guy to mow the lawn, and I’ll take washing the dishes, type of thing, where strength may matter. Not due to actual gender stereotypes. rather personal experience.

a “skit” I made, Myself vs my mother

I wrote this at the end of November, and I still find that I agree with it, I thought I would share it, so people might know what the person is thinking of when they say “they won’t understand/care” or “I’ll get into trouble for it” (self injury).

you can never guess how another persons’ people (everyone in their life) will react when faced with the news of mental illness. I’ve heard of people getting into trouble because they were self harming. Myself, the one time I was suicidal, my mom found the note I’d made, after I was no longer suicidal. she treated me so badly, it still upsets me, she wasn’t concerned about me, how I felt, she mentioned the abuse I’d mentioned in it (double sided, I meant both parents, but claimed I’d only meant her). I got into trouble because I was in so much mental anguish I though it would never get better (and guess what…… it hasn’t). but back on topic. this post is about what would happen (in my mind) if I ever told my mom to her face to stay away from me, that I am cutting her out of my life. (also I didn’t check it for punctuation or capitalization, sorry.)

“mom I hate you,” I say sadly “I want you to stay away and never talk to me again”

“why, I’ve never done anything wrong, I’ve always been there for you, helped you as much as I could” she all but yells.

“yes you have. you’ve NEVER been there for me, you never supported me, you blamed me for everything, you treated me as a second class entity, worth less then even the plant you had.” I cried “you controlled my life too much, you still try to. you eroded my confidence, make me feel stupid, worthless, and utterly unwanted. you made me feel like I cannot do anything for myself, yet made me feel like shit when I can’t/couldn’t do something. and I cannot put up with it anymore. so I’m cutting you out from my life. like a a fungus. I love you but you hurt me too much”

I walk away know she’s going to come after me not let me leave until I’m a cry heap on the floor, trying to make me change my mind. and I’m not let down, she grabs my arm, starts yelling at me

“do you think it’s been easy raising you on my own, easy for me to give up everything for you, sacrifice my life for you. you are completely selfish, you always have been.”

“so, you had a choice, and you just proved my point. let go of me now” I yelled crying, her grip on my arm hurt “you’ve never thought about me, and I never say you sacrifice anything for me, never. for Lorne, maybe you did. but me, I’m a worthless piece of shit, the one you hate, the one you could barely love.” I tried to pull my arm free “let go of me now”

I’m facing her now, so she slaps me hard across the face, I can feel it sting. luckily she doesn’t wear jewelry, or I’d probably be bleeding. “you don’t know what you’re talking about” she is ferrous, she cannot understand because she thinks she is perfect, that she has never made a mistake. I am ferrous, I want to leave, bet she won’t let me, I’m in pain, my temper snaps

“yes I do. I’ve lived with it for over 20 years. lived been treated worse then the cats, who you at least made sure they had food. you have always spoiled the cats, yet once I it 13 you never showed me one speck of compassion, everything I got was begrudged, like pulling a dog away from his favorite toy. I was an after though, the person you had complete control of, I mean I couldn’t even have a privet phone call, you were always there. you always treated me like a kid, I mean even when I was 18, you told me “this is an adult conversation, go away” yet you expected me to take the responsibility of an adult ones that were still yours, like doctor appointments, since you would have to get me there, or feeding me since I was broke. and the double standard, Lorne getting to keep the change, but I always had to give it back. or how about the fact that you would do things for Lorne that you wouldn’t do for me. how about the fact that you literally turned everything away from you, and made it my fault. dirty house, my fault even though you had more time then I did to clean, no one likes me they treat me like crap, my fault, even though I cannot control how people react. my fault some of the plants died, I should have watered them. not my responsibility, and why couldn’t you”

the tear are filling my eyes. I want to leave, I do not want her to see me cry. she would not understand. I need to leave, to get as far away from her as I can. But still she will not let me go.

“you are wrong” she says, hurting my ears with from being so close. she is very scary now. “I’ve never treated you like that, and you needed to learn to be responsible. and it was your fault that those things never got done, you never helped out, you never cleaned.”

“mom, you’ll never get it. you will never understand the pain I’m in, the damage you’ve caused me. and we will never agree on it.” I say, my spirit almost defeated, but still I will not desist. “that is why I need you out of my life. in one day you have caused me to break, your subsequent visits kept me from healing so much so that I went through a massive depressive episode. massive. so much that I was barely able to ask for help. I could barely get up in the morning, barely function”…

This is as far as I got, I can guess that she would freak and repeat that I’m wrong and don’t know what I’m talking about, because that’s the type of person she is. But I can’t think it out beyond this. And yes, if anyone wants to know, eventually my mother is being removed from my life.