Respect: Low on Battery

Uncategorized

I’m a fairly respectful person in person, I don’t tell people what they believe is wrong or that they are wrong, like ever. I get that people have different opinion than myself and I don’t push their buttons.

That is – as long as they respect me.

If they don’t respect me and my decisions, to be simply put, I don’t respect theirs. You get what you give. An eye for an eye, however you want to put it.

Of course, I wouldn’t be writing this post if something hadn’t happened. Well, I have little to no respect left for white-christian-men. They seriously can go die, all of them.

They tend to have no respect for other people, especially those who don’t have the same opinions as them, nor for women in their lives. They annoy the shit out of me and they’re so disrespectful.

Of course, being that I grew up Christian, I was taught that you treat men with utmost respect, and so in my day-to-day life, I still am. But, it feels more like a bad habit instead of a respectful (predominately good) one.

I just want to be myself, and I do not like them. I feel like being nice to them is just too much, I’m not being myself by sucking up like I do.

Now, if I were to throw my starbucks drink at the men sitting at the table adjacent to my own, my immediate reaction afterward would probably be (after the great adrenaline) that they are people too and it would feel rude and awful, and since I know that, I don’t.

There is no humanity in it, there is no human decency. Even if they aren’t decent people, I still need to be. For the most part.

 

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Empty Audience

Family, forgotten, fuck you, Memories, no trust, Personal, Uncategorized

I’m angry. Very angry. Mostly at myself for allowing myself to put trust in someone.

It’s been a problem for me through my life, expecting people to be there at important life events. Like school presentations, recitals, HELL, MY GRADUATION. My theatre productions.

Hoping to see familiar faces in the audience, but as I got older, they started coming in smaller and smaller numbers until they just stopped altogether.

Like today, research presentation day. Everyone else had their parents there. All their mom’s and dad’s, siblings and grandparents even.

But not me, no one but my boyfriend is involved enough to even know the date of it, and he was the only one I decided to invite, that way I wouldn’t be disappointed when there weren’t any faces in the audience for me, because there would just be him. The only one I needed there.

But no. Of course not. Of course life had to screw me over and through another curve at me.

Of course, my boyfriend would not show up.

I remember thinking, as I was standing up and my name was being announced, “why did I let myself trust and set expectations?” I knew I shouldn’t have, people only ever disappoint.

And he didn’t show. So I did it alone, like I’ll probably do the rest of my life. It’s not that I enjoy being independent and doing things alone, because I love having people supporting me and getting roses after doing a piece at a piano recital. But after being let down time after time, I decided it wasn’t worth getting my hopes up because it hurt too much to see no one out there.

Isn’t it kind of funny? When I was 6 and only spent two hours a week practicing piano, and at the end of my recital after playing a dumb Little Mozart’s piece, I would get a dozen roses. But after I slaved hours away at a piano a day, and played seven page songs from memory, at those recitals, no one was even there.

And at the presentations I half-assed as a seventh grader, people supported, but today not a single face in the audience.

And last year at my shakespeare production, literally no one came to see my sister and I. I ran out into the audience after the production ended, expecting to see my aunts and uncles, even grandparents who promised to come, and found not a single soul there for me.

People don’t show up when you need them, and that is the most important lesson I’ve learned in years. Don’t rely on anyone, don’t expect anyone, don’t get your hopes up, because no matter what, they WILL let you down.

Spanked

Atheism, bisexual, dads, Domestic Violence, Family, fathers, fuck you, god, Humanist, Journal, Memories, Religion, science, Uncategorized

So much has happened recently that I’m not sure where to begin, but I had a major flashback recently that I had forgotten about (concerning my one and only father).

It was about three years ago, a few months before we left him. I had done something that deserved punishment, and he thought it would be a good disciplinary action to spank me, his thirteen year old daughter, who had obviously been going through puberty (due to my ever-growing breasts).

He bent me over his knee, pulled down my pants, and spanked me.

I was so uncomfortable, and not because I was being punished, because I always took that with a grain of salt. I understood when I had done something wrong, and that the only way to get over those issues was punishment for them  (so I had thought).

No, this was a different kind of discomfort. This kind was different, it made me want to squeeze my legs shut as tight as they could go. At the ripe age of thirteen, I felt like I had been violated, like my father had no right to be touching my bare ass.

But at the same time, I couldn’t do anything about it. If I had protested, I would have had more spankings, or been told that I was trying to get out of punishment.

It’s memories like these that make me want to have that man erased from my mind forever. I feel so gross thinking about it, like I need to wash myself.

And then  it makes me angry, how was he allowed to do that to me? Why couldn’t something have stopped it? Why did he think that was fucking okay?

I have so much inside me that wants to come out.

I find myself feeling like screaming when I think about everything going on, about all the feelings I have that I’m not allowed to express outside my bedroom.

What the hell am I supposed to do?  I’m angry, I’m frustrated, I’m sad, I want to feel comfortable outside my bedroom door. But I don’t.

I can’t be myself as soon as I step out my door. I have to put on a stupid-ass christian face. I have to act like I’m not a part of the LGBTQ community, like I am not a Bernie supporter, like I don’t like eating organic and believe that global warming is ACTUALLY GOING ON, like atheism doesn’t make any sense and Bill Nye is an ass instead of a scientist, all because I know they wouldn’t accept it.

I wish I could say I didn’t care about being accepted, but I honestly think most people do care, a lot.

We all want to be accepted at least a little bit, and when people you live with don’t, it’s hard to come out about it, to say you’re something other than the social norm.

 

Life Update: Ranting

Atheism, bisexual, Church, Family, fuck you, Future, god, Hope, Humanist, Personal, Religion, Small Things

I’ve been dealing with numerous problems recently, but the most prominent to me right now is my family. To be more specific, not my parents or siblings, it’s my aunts and uncles, cousins and grandparents.

They’re all fucking idiots. Trump supporting, anti-intellectuals who give me the worst headache ever and I’m not sure I can handle being their blood. In fact, when I move out of their house, I swear I’m never going to talk to my grandpa again. He’s such a sexist asshole, I hate hearing his voice in the morning right when I wake up and how he listens to Talk Radio in the afternoon when he picks me up from school.

I think I would have less of a problem with my Nana, but she has been stifled for so long, I believe she’s forgotten who she is. She got married right out of high school at 19, and was kicked out of christian-college for being married, and then proceeded to have four children, and now takes care of her grand-children and cooks and forgets to clean (which my grandpa refuses to do because he’s a man and I honestly believe he doesn’t know how or where to start if he were going to), so my grandpa gets onto my sister and I about cleaning messes we took no part in making, like his juicing supplies and fucking dog feces that his damn dog made NOT MINE.

And right now he is standing outside my door knocking, but I’m in the front room and don’t care if he thinks I’m in there ignoring him.

Have you ever met someone and just the octave of their voice made you hate them? But you act sweet and nice, like it doesn’t bother you. Years later, you still deal with the problem but now it’s grown into something a lot bigger, because they voiced their heavily right-wing opinions about women and how they are physically weaker than men and it’s “just science”, like how can someone hold such an archaic opinion? Sure, women sometimes are built smaller than men but what about those who aren’t? The british actress Gwendoline Christie, for example. She’s a naturally tall and buff woman who could probably take most men out. But, according to my grandpa, women can’t be like that. That’s not natural.

Of course, he doesn’t know I’m bisexual or an Atheist (though, I’m sure they have their suspicions) even with my “cover job” as a sunday school nursery worker/teacher, and I accidently let it out that I like Bernie Sanders at a family dinner, so they now know I’m a liberal* and my being a feminist is something I just cannot hide. I just want to go somewhere where I don’t have to hide anymore.

Once I move, I swear I’m changing my facebook to who I really am. I’m going to changed my religious views and repost those bernie sanders pictures and do EVERYTHING that is ME. I can’t wait, honestly. I will feel so liberated and free. I want to be just about anywhere but with my extended family because they make me hate myself. They don’t love me, only when I fit their mold. They don’t care about me, my mom, or my sisters. They don’t hide their disapproval of my mom’s boyfriend and guess what… I CAN’T WAIT TO NOT DEAL WITH THEIR SHIT.

My life will be perfect, even if I end up moving into another mobile home, just as long as I don’t have to deal with so much negativity toward me.

It sounds like I’ll be getting my own room, and I’ll be the oldest child in the house, which is both exciting and terrifying (in a good way), but I think I’ll be happy doing the dishes and having a morning routine, having my mom to fold laundry with and have her there when I graduate high school and go off to college. She’ll be there with me when I want to look into colleges and maybe we’ll even tour some together. I am so excited for my future and how bright it will be just having my mom by my side.

I think I will appreciate having her buy me food and paying to get my hair cut 100% more than before. I don’t need a lot to make me happy, but I sure love not having to be financially scared at 16 for college and having to budget just to go hang out and go to see theatre and movies, or even just get starbucks.

I’m gonna have my mom in just around 4-5 months. I can do that. And when I’m there, I want our house to be the happiest and brightest house there is. It’s going to be a bubble of positivity. I’ll go to therapy and get my life together, I’ll be able to start driving and get my mom’s little car. I’ll go to a new school with people who have no idea who I used to be, and the best part is that I won’t have to deal with my extended family’s expectations for me to be their patriotic, right-wing little girl.

Well holy shit, I went to the opposite side of the house to write this while my family was having lunch where I was not invited to join, and then my aunt brought my four year old cousin into the room and yelled and spanked her and then left her there for a time out and I’m just like. Flash backs and shit about being spanked as a kid that really bother me. I understand that it is their form of punishment and I won’t tell them how to raise their kids, but I will never spank my own if I have them. It psychologically messed with me and I don’t like the effects it had on me. It harbors anger toward the person who spanks and then you are told to hold in your true emotions because you’re not allowed to be unhappy. You’re not allowed to show how you really feel, and that causes harm in the long run. I think it’s best if you just let children show how they feel, if that means they’re grumpy and upset, then they are and maybe they should go down for a nap, I don’t know.. It’s just upsetting to see and hear a kid in such discomfort do to the parents own hand. What made it worse was that the mom said that she was angry with her daughter. What if that resonates with her more than all the “I love you’s” she hears and she lays in bed at night and feels unwanted and unloved after all the days she was spanked. I don’t think it’s right.

*After finding out that I was liberal, my aunt said “Well… It was bound to happen, with your going to that hippie school and all…” she made it sound like I had committed a felony!!