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.


Daughters are not harder to raise

I am tired of hearing people tell me some version of “I prefer boys because they are easier  to raise.” That isn’t accurate as far as I’m concerned. The reason people think it is easier to raise a son is plain and simple sexism. We hold our daughters to higher standards then our sons. Then we belittle everything they do, watch their actions closer,  and punish them more often then boys. We encourage our sons to be arrogant and full of self importance. We encourage our sons to play rough and noisy, or we don’t stop it if they are doing so. Yet we encourage our daughters to be quiet and self contained. There is the boys will be boys, there is no equivalent saying for girls.

That is why we think raising our daughters is harder then raising our sons. If we had to control and monitor so much of our sons’ lives they would be described as equal in difficulty. Or the reverse, if we weren’t so critical of our daughters we would find it easier to raise them. So check how you treat them, if you have one of each, and make sure you give them the freedom to be who they should be.

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.


So, I just needed to vent.

I want to wake up one day looking forward to the the present and the future.

I want to get out of bed knowing it will be a good day. I want go through the day feeling like I’m actually feeling, not a shadow or fake feeling. I don’t want to worry about how other’s are going to react to my behaviour. I don’t want to feel like crying without knowing why (but yet unable to do so).

I want to know that everything I’ve done is or was done because it was the best choice I could make for myself. to live with certainty rather then panic. No longer double guessing everything I do or think. To live without this anxiety that I was born with, yet never had a name for.

I want to know that I have a future I will love. No longer fearing the future, or lack of one. To know I have a place in this world, rather then feeling like I really shouldn’t be here. That I’m taking up space and resources that would be better used for some one else. That I’m doing something meaningful, rather then the gruelling labour I do now, with no purpose but to allow my boss to go on vacation for a good part of the year.

I want to feel free, free to be me. Free to choose what I want to do or be, not what others think I should do or be. Free to laugh without worrying about explaining myself. Free to cry, even if I don’t know why. Free to run up and down the hall, without getting yelled at. I just want to be free.

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.

Who I am, Why I am Mentally Ill

This topic is hard for me to talk about. Yet it comes up for me a lot.

I suffer from chronic depression and high anxiety. Yet I’m only 22, I’ve been suffering for over a decade. I know most people won’t believe me, when I say I thought about killing myself when I was eleven, or that from the time I was 8 I dreamed of running away. Not all the blame is due to my child hood, which I’ll go into at length. Some of it is genetic. At least two other people in my maternal family have been diagnosed with mental illnesses.

most might think I’m some spoiled middle-class kid, who doesn’t know how good she has it. I’ve been accused of that before. I’m not, My mother is a welfare bum, who refuses to get treatment for her own mental illnesses. She was a welfare bum when she decided to get pregnant with my older brother, and when she accidentally got knocked up with me. When I didn’t live with her, I lived with my father, and the kids he was raising (the eldest, my half sister, the other two my step sister and step brother), so I was living with 6 other people, on a mill-worker’s wage. When I was about 8 or 9 my stepmother OD’d, and that was basically the last I saw of my step siblings, who went to live with an uncle of theirs.

when I was seven my mother was diagnosed with cancer, for ever changing her. before that she cared a bit. now she hated me. Or at least she loved me less than she had before, and loved my brother and everything else more. In the following years as we all know, I began to think and loose the innocence of my youth. I began to puzzle things out, to realize the world isn’t perfect. During this time my mother was starting her emotional abuse, if she hadn’t always been abusive. She and all my family set the stage for my mental illness that I deal with today, because I was such a serious person. I was told not to cry, that it’s bad to cry. I cannot let myself cry any more. I was told that the only reason my mom kept me was for the money. I was made to fear welfare, as “I would never see my family again” if they took me away.

then when I was 10 another abuse started, though both my depression and anxiety had already developed. I was now getting sexually abused by my father, while I slept. I won’t go into details, as I’m not ready to delve into that yet, but it made things worse. I didn’t even really know what was happening, because I was so young, I wanted to dismiss it all as a dream (and did so for years). When I was 11 we moved in with him. when I was 12 he was arrested for abusing my stepsister years before. we were even worse off then we had been before we moved in with my father (we could no longer live with him). we had moved from where my mother’s family lived, to a small village. We now lived out of town, with no way to go anywhere (or at least, my brother and I couldn’t. My father could still drive my mom around), as my mother had never bothered to get her license. so from gr.7-10 I lived in two places, school and home. no escape, except to visit family on holidays, if possible. nor was school all that good, though I much prefered it to the mother who told me to stop bitching about the bullying I was experiencing. In gr.10 we moved even further away from town, thankfully my mother could now drive me to important things.

sad thing is. she didn’t consider me important, and had to be ordered by welfare to take me to the dentist, refused to take me to the doctors for asthma meds, or to the optometrist for new (FREE) glasses. She also preferred to feed the animals before feeding me, and now that my brother was gone, made my life a living hell (thank god my father had given me his computer before he went to jail, else I would not be here today.)

so two years after moving out, and in with my grandma and brother, a year and a half of sleeping on the couch, combined with a visit from my mother dearest saw me have a mental break down, though no one knew about it. I almost lost my job, ’cause I couldn’t function well enough to do my job properly, and I ended up getting help through my government’s free mental health care.

EDIT: If you read my newest post (04/07/2013, If You Think Something Is Wrong Tell Them) you will find out that my grandma knew I was suffering and did nothing positive to help me (emotionally)