Look At Me

Blame, Failure, Family, fathers, forgotten, home, Journal, Personal, Relationships, school

There are more people who dislike me in the world than like me. I’m not even sure my own friends like me- who even are my friends? The people at the high school aren’t that close to me and the kids I did the musical with are like disinterested in me and the people at erclc don’t even care about me anymore.

Even the people who live with me don’t talk to me- it’s been two weeks since my mom’s boyfriend has even acknowledged my existence. He has been ignoring me when I’m in the same room as him and hasn’t look at me or said a single word to me since May 10th.

I feel like I have no one.

People don’t respond to my snapchats, they don’t respond to my texts, and last night Sam sent me a video of his friends saying i should fuck myself.

Perhaps I’m just a terrible person who does terrible things and it’s easy to hate me.

I came so close to killing myself last night. It feels like only three people in the world really care that I live and breath.

I’m temperamental, narcissistic, over dramatic, insecure, controlling – I’m a million terrible things combined into one shit storm of a person.

I’ve burned bridges with people because of my personality, I’ve hurt myself and others simply by being me. Why am I like this? I honestly believe that I am the worst person I know.

I’m a disappointment to my mom, I’m such a burden to her.

I was a burden to my grandparents as well.

And to my aunt and uncle.

Look at me, a fucked up human who people hate. A academically failing piece of shit who will never fulfill their dreams. Look at me. I’m awful. I’m just a plain bitch. I can’t even fucking do the dishes like my mom asks.

I haven’t changed. I’m still shitty. I hate myself.

I want loving parents who care about me. I want to be kissed on the forehead and for someone to make me tea before bed and I want someone to care that I’m suicidal. I want someone to tell me not to, to say that I have so much to live for and that they believe I can do it.

Instead, I have a mom who comes home and complains about work everyday.

I haven’t had a normal conversation with my dad since I was 13.

I’ve broken friendships and people are uncomfortable around me.

Look at me. Who have I become?

Dear Dad

Athiesm, Blame, Church, dancing, Family, fathers, feminism, fuck you, god, Humanist, Journal, Love, Perfect

Dear dad,
I want you to know that I love you. I haven’t been able to say that in an incredibly long time. I haven’t been able to admit to myself in years that I love you.

I want you to know that you have hurt me – that I suffer on a daily basis because of your reckless actions.

I want you to know that because of your abusive actions, I was forced to become an adult at 13.

I want you to know that I hurt every time I see a picture or a mention of you on social media, because I have desperately tried to cut you out of my life.

I want you to know that because you weren’t there for me as a little girl, I tried to find love in a ruthless world. In a world where finding love is genuinely difficult – where I am taught to not love myself. In a world where having you by my side would have solved a lot of problems. I wanted you there.

I want you to know that I want you to love me more desperately than I’ve ever wanted anything else.

I want you to know that I don’t expect you to come back into my life, that I don’t expect anything from you, that this has made me bitter, hurt, and angry.

Which is why I hate to say I love you. Why it is bitter for me to say I love you. Why I roll my eyes at myself and am left in confusion when I say I love you, because I shouldn’t.

You abused me.
You don’t pay for child support.
You ignore my text messages.
You controlled me.
You manipulated my perception of myself.
You hurt me beyond all means.
You were not there for me.
You never made the effort to reenter my life.

I have every reason to hate you.
But I don’t.

I should.
But I don’t.

I want to hate you,
But I can’t.

Despite all you have done to me, I regret to inform you that I love you. I know that this doesn’t change our relationship – that it will continue as per the legal documents instruct; That we will see each other on the holidays listed, that I will no longer be on your insurance at 26, that you won’t be responsible for my child support after 18, and so forth.

But by this point, I should be used to not having you in my life. Or not having your “financial support”, which you have only given me once. I should understand that you only have me in your life when it’s convenient for you, when it looks good to that girl you wanna date, or when it helps you get custody of my little sister in court.

I understand that the extent of your love for me ended when you found out I was an atheist, that I wasn’t going to stand for you trying to convert me back to Christianity. You never tried to talk to me after that last weekend.

Remind me again why I should love you?

The Beginning and The End

Beauty, dads, Domestic Violence, Family, fathers, feminism, forgotten, fuck you, Future, home, Hope, Humanist, Journal, Loving Life, Memories, Personal

My life as I know it today started like this:

My mom was painting our living room, furniture was covered in plastic, windows were open to air the house out.Cross-legged on a desk, I sat nearby as my mom lathered the wall in a neutral base. The dynamic in our house had been different recently, I couldn’t pinpoint it then but I knew something was off.. At that moment, my mom broke some news to me. She told me something that would alter the course of my life, she told me something that I now know would change me in a multitude of ways. She told me we were going to be leaving my dad.

I sat there, at first worried, then I realized all the possibilities leaving him would offer me. I could finally be myself. I remember sitting there on top of my desk and thinking “I can finally be an atheist, I can finally watch glee, I can finally enjoy the things I like without feeling guilty”. I recall anticipating my parent’s divorce, and when I told my eldest sister this, she agreed, saying she felt the same way. We were excited for them to split, neither of us had ever been satisfied with the life we led when they were together. Little did I know, it would start the next chapter of my life – one of difficulties, of neglect, where I could discover who I was.

At The End of The Day

Blame, Domestic Violence, Family, fathers, feminism, forgotten, fuck you, Future, home, Hope, Humanist, Journal, no trust, Personal

Who does Bryan think he is? To come downstairs and start raising his voice at me in my house, on the one day I have off from school and other activities.

Sure, our house wasn’t clean, but I was going to clean it. I made a To Do list and cleaning the whole house was on there..

But instead of rationally discussing the fact that there was a dirty pan on the stove and the floor could stand to be swept, he yelled at me. He threw something across the room and saying “go ahead and run away” as I packed up my things so I could do my homework in peace.

On that note, I shouldn’t have to fucking worry about being able to do my homework on a saturday when it’s just me there with my moms boyfriend. I shouldn’t have to think twice about having to come home when it will just be him and I there. He can’t control his temper, he has anger outbursts. He spanks kendra out of anger when Riley and I have expressed our discomfort with it, when we have talked to our mom and told her how we feel.

I shouldn’t have to feel like my mom won’t listen to me because she will automatically take sides with Bryan. She doesn’t hear what I have to say, or she does but she doesn’t care that her boyfriend makes my life uncomfortable. That he makes me uncomfortable in my own home.

I am valid in feeling like my mother’s boyfriend should not raise his voice at me when I am alone with him. I am valid in feeling that my mom does not care about my emotions when she sides with him. Just because my mom does not agree with me, just because my mom does not hear me, just because my mom is choosing to stay with a man who has hurt all of her children, does not make my opinions, feelings, or ideas invalid.

At the end of the day, I am just a sixteen year old who wants her mother to care about her.

At the end of the day, I am just a sixteen year old who could really use a parent with good judgement.

At the end of the day, I just want to feel like someone has my best interest at heart.

Answers in Genesis? More Like: Answers in Wretchedness

Athiesm, Athiest, Church, Family, fathers, forgotten, fuck you, god, Humanist, Journal, Memories, Personal, Religion

In the beginning:

In the truck, applying lip gloss. Dad behind the wheel, destination: church.

Fond memories of red berries on the hill, crowned with a cross. White flowers by the doors. Mrs. Hengst’s red lipstick. The grey, musty floors. 

Stone mill, tall oak trees. Counting how many times one man could say ‘lord’ in his opening prayer – interesting fact, it was seventy. Being bored shitless during sermons, imaging life beyond those two front doors. Getting on stage to sing the ritual “Jesus Loves You”.

Even then, I knew there was no god answering my prayers. Those ‘answers’? I knew they were coincidence, I asked for easy things – like for the sun to rise tomorrow. I doubted every second, hoping I would find the one true answer.

Blindly believing in faith was not sufficient, my mind would not be satisfied without real answers.

In the end: 

I found there were no answers from a God that would end my questioning.

I found that there was no verse I could learn that would make me stop wondering.

I found that I would not be satisfied with unanswered prayers.

I found that the life I had led for thirteen years was a big white lie and if I was wrong… I was prepared to burn in hell for it.

Life Update: Soul Sucking Life

Blame, Domestic Violence, Family, fathers, fuck you, Future, Jealousy, Journal, Memories, Personal, school, Uncategorized

It’s really unfair, we live in a world where people don’t get invited to parties, where old friends forget you, and other people have it a whole lot better.

I figure I must come off as such an angry and jealous person, which I am.. But I see my friends and cousins, acquaintances too, who have parents that are still together, who have lawyers for fathers and BMW’s.. They have their own rooms, and more rooms in their houses than people living in them..

I’ve had that lifestyle before, which is one of the reasons it makes me so angry. I’ve had that. I’ve been able to live and not worry about the household income, where I didn’t have to think twice about every item in our shopping cart because of the price and worrying if we’ll have enough until the next paycheck.

I systematically turn off lights and other electricity-eating things because no one else bothers to and I’m worried that one month we won’t have enough money to pay everything.

Then there are those months where unexpected fees and bills pop up, and this time I’m really worried we won’t have enough for the month. We got an unexpected fee for $750 attached to our rent, which amounted to $2,000 when it was all said and done.

It must be nice to not worry about those things.. It must be nice to live in a loving family. To not have an assload of mental illnesses. To not worry about bills or prices.. To be able to hang out with friends and seamlessly enjoy time with other people.

My mom is quitting her job.. She can’t support all of us, even with a manager’s salary, and they just added a new person to her showroom floor, which means that she’ll be getting paid less. There’s this job that will be more stable, she’ll get a steady $30,000 a year.

On top of all this, I see my friends from my hometown posting pictures of their summer parties and I’m 141 miles away, my life not any better than when I was there. I’m not even doing drivers ed because it’s too expensive.

I feel like I’m asking the world of the people in my life if I ask for even the smallest thing, but I keep their secrets and I cry myself to sleep. I try to keep to myself so I don’t burden them. But now Riley is considering backpacking through Europe with her boyfriend indefinitely and then I’ll be the oldest kid in the house and I won’t have her as my support or as a friend anymore and she is literally my only friend over here. Then I think about the next two years for me.. I’ll be home schooled..  No opportunities to make friends.. I’m going to spend my last years as an adolescent cooped up in a small condo with a toddler unless I make a change.

Happy Father’s Day: Whores and Addiction

dads, Domestic Violence, Family, fathers, fuck you, Journal, Memories, no trust, Personal, sexual harassment

This Father’s Day I will quietly, but unashamedly, denounce Father’s Day because my father was no father to me.

For years, I would listen to the sound of his voice echo throughout our house as my family would try to sleep. His drunken, loud, angry voice yelling at my mom about things she could not control. The same man who threw my sweet, innocent puppy into our concrete patio,breaking some of her ribs…

ronpup

(This could be her as a puppy, the resemblance is uncanny)

The man who slept with prostitutes when working out of town – and didn’t tell my mom before sleeping with her again. Who drank profusely and stared at his twelve year-old daughters breasts that puberty had spit upon her chest. He wasn’t a graceful man, he wasn’t a nice man, he wasn’t even kind. As the naive and uneducated kid that I was, I loved him. He made my life. I was Daddy’s Girl.

As much as I wish I could still accept him, I know things that tore apart any love or sentiment I had for him. He did things that can’t be reversed with an apology, or with a fatherly kiss on the forehead. Even those kisses he planted on my forehead when he left for work have been tarnished because of reckless actions he didn’t have to take. He let his addiction come before his family, he let his love for whores come before his daughters, he let his lust for breasts taint the way I will see him for the rest of my life.

We lived in fear of what he would do next and we sure made hell seem happy – in our nicely furnished home, with our name brand clothing and smiles plastered to our faces. Mom gently reminding us “Don’t air your dirty laundry“, because she knew exactly what would happen if people found out what happened behind our closed doors.  We did such a good job hiding it, when we finally came out and proclaimed the truth, no one believed us.

So, no. I am not celebrating father’s day. I understand that some people have nice fathers, however foreign that may seem to me right now. Some people love their dads, they might even have good relationships with them.. But to me, father’s day may as well be what Hanukkah is to an Atheist: absolutely meaningless.

Deep Wounds From Cupid.

dads, Domestic Violence, Family, fathers, forgotten, fuck you, Future, Hope, Humanist, Jealousy, Journal, Love, Memories, no trust, Personal, Uncategorized

This is a letter to myself – where I am pure me. Where I get personal, real, and talk about things that I would never consider telling the truth about.

978 people on OkCupid liked my profile – I’m almost to 1,000 and I’m already one of the hottest people on the app. They sent me this email and IDK, maybe they send it to people who have gotten a certain number of messages, but they said I was one of their “hottest” users and that since I got to that point, they would only show me to people who were equally as hot.

I average forty messages a day from new people, I’ve had a ton of guys confess their feelings to me in person.. So why do I have this voice in the back of my head telling me I’m ugly, worthless, and useless?

I’ve had Dustyn, Eli, Caleb, Ruben, Samuel, Michael, Matt, Garrett, Sam, Cadence and so many other people confess their feelings for me. Why is it that I think no one likes me?

I mean, if we’re gonna get super deep, maybe it’s because of my dad. He used to tell me things like that over and over again, he had me so well trained, I would do it to myself at night “I’m worthless, I’m worthless, I’m worthless.” I would say it over and over again to myself before bed, I needed to make myself think it, because if my dad believed it, well.. It had to be true. I had to be worthless, lazy, and scared to work because dad said so.

Is that what this is all about? Is my insecurity my fault, my father’s, or no one’s? Am I broken and feel like I can’t be loved because my home growing up was broken and had no love? Is that what’s going on? Is this why I feel it’s so important to be independent? Because I can’t stand to let myself have another person waltz into my life and abuse me until I’m so fucked up that I can’t love someone, then drop me like a glass dish on concrete to go fuck an old horse lady?

Also, I’m angry-jealous at my little sister because she’s spent more time with my dad than I ever have. He spends time with her and does things like go to the zoo with her… I’ve NEVER been to the zoo with my dad. Why does he care about her but not me? Did he not care about me the same way he cares about Kendra? Am I just unloveable?

I guess all the reasons above are the underlying issues about my insecurities. Why I have a hard time letting myself care about another person deeply. Why I haven’t cared about someone thinking it would be long term… ever.

Every time I like someone, I like to set an expiration date. With Sam, it was the end of the school year before I went to Ashland, Oregon. With Cadence, it was when I moved. I knew I needed to cut things off before they got too serious. I knew I couldn’t let them stay with me for a long time.. When our future would come up in conversation, I would laugh it off or change the subject. The idea of a future terrified me. I don’t want to stay with one person, I don’t want to make myself vulnerable to anyone like that again. Being vulnerable to my father got me the deepest wound I’ve got. PTSD, anxiety attacks, and insecurities.

Spanked

Athiesm, Athiest, 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.

 

Toxic Father with Vagina Face

Athiesm, Athiest, Blame, Church, Domestic Violence, Family, fathers, fuck you, god, Hope, Humanist, Jealousy, Journal, Personal

My father, who looks like he has a unkept vagina on his face (due to his awful mustache and beard), just recently held an “Atheism intervention” for me. Isn’t he a wonderful man?

He asked if I would like to get lunch with him, and as the silly woman I am, I agreed thinking he was finally showing love toward me.

Could I have been more wrong?

When I showed up, there was a table of middle-aged white men with their bibles on the table staring at me (no exaggeration).

I sit down, and find out that I have strayed from gods path for me and need to redeem myself.

One of the men kept asking me if I thought god would think I was “righteous”, and I didn’t realize they knew I was an Atheist, so I just kind of just shook my head and ordered a taco.

He took the attention off of me and then talked to my dad, but came back to me and asked again and this time I was flustered, I just wanted lunch and not to bother with strangers who were trying to shove this ultra-religious shit down my throat.

So I looked him in the eye and said “Well no, god wouldn’t think I was religious, because I’m an Atheist and do not believe he exists. So if he happened to really exist, he would not like that very much.” and he just sat there, then picked up his bible and turned to the story about Abraham when he goes to sacrifice his son to god (Oh, because that’s a great story to tell someone when you want to convert them).

He also kept repeating “God redeemed you with his blood, which is so holy.” and I wanted so badly to say “Do you worship god or his blood?” because he made it sound like such a precious gem.

I made the decision to not go to my dad’s house anymore, though.

He hurt me, and doesn’t respect my decisions. Until he can see me as a person and not judge my life choices, he won’t have me at his house.

I don’t need to subject myself to someone who makes me feel like I’m wrong all the time. Not for someone who doesn’t accept me.