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Found 8 results

  1. Did I mention how much of a pain in the ass my mother is? You all might know her as Oompa at this point, but - I might change that to 'pain in the ass.' She's always going to look like an Oompa Loompa, but lately this new nickname for her is becoming FAR more appropriate. I might have indeed mentioned...but just in case I didn't... My. Mother. Is. A. GIANT. Pain in the ass! I just spent most of this morning arguing with her and one of my lovely readers is likely going to have to front me some bail money because I'm about to be arrested for matricide. Unless of course, I can 'untwist my panties,' (as she so eloquently put it) by venting here. It seems like a much safer alternative to jail time, so - here goes. The son has pretty much commandeered use of my car - he uses it to get back and forth to the (local) college. When he goes back to the wasband's on Saturday evenings, he will take the car with him (unless I need it for any other reason) and more often than not, it's with him these days more than it's with me. That's okay - this was always my intention - let him 'take over' my car - in lieu of a hefty monthly car payment, he would pay for gas, insurance and any other upkeep/maintenance costs on that car - and I would get a new one to ensure I had a means of getting from A to B without having to rely on anyone else. I've told him this, too - 'you NEED to find a job - if you want to have a car (and I added the usual mom-style pep talk about growing up, becoming responsible, etc) then you NEED to start learning how to budget and manage your money.' As is, we are now living somewhere where 4WD is NEEDED and owning a SUV is highly recommended - and although my existing car (which will soon be the Son's) does not have 4WD and is TERRIBLE in the snow, I don't have the heart to trade it in as it was bought from money my aunt and uncle left me upon their passing. Rather than the son spend the money (that he doesn't have) on a car that he'll have payments (that he cannot make) on, he can make do with a significantly reduced financial responsibility and use my old car to get to school/work. It does snow a lot here, but it's NOT a CONSTANT problem - when it does snow, his classes are usually cancelled anyway. I have some money saved - and am now feeling the need to be situated with a car - I'm going to be starting school in the fall, so there's a little time. However, I've realized that the son is also dragging his feet. He won't move unless I do. He had PLENTY of time to find a job during his first semester (last fall) and didn't. He isn't fully to blame for this, though - the wasband (another VERY accurate addition to my 'Top Five' Pains in the Ass) has been taking the majority of his elder son's and daughter's paychecks, 'to pay house bills with.' Our son, aside from having an endless supply of self-admitted laziness, is a VERY perceptive and observant young man. He sees that his older brother and sister NEVER have a penny to their names - they work and hand their paychecks over. This has been going on for months, already, and my elder stepson, having finally reached his limit, has left the wasband's home and moved back in with his mother. There was a HUGE blowout between him and the wasband, something I had no idea was happening until AFTER the fact - and long story short, Junior is no longer 'supporting the family,' and MY son has now been told that he now has to take over Junior's job working alongside his sister at HER job. This means, now the son has a job. Which is what I've been waiting for. It is my intention to let the wasband know that he's going to need to afford the son a little bit of leniency with his paychecks so that he has the money he'll need in order to maintain the expense of having his own car and possibly his tuition so that he doesn't doom himself to a lifetime of debt. So, how does Oompa fit into all of this? Well, for starters, she knows I've been saving up to buy a car. And now, my savings is starting to dwindle - as we have lately had some hefty financial responsibilities - vet bills, vacation bills, household repairs, etc, all in the last three months. The vacation we planned on, but the rest, we did not. So, now, I am of the impression that leasing my next personal-use vehicle is likely my best option. But being 'President's week,' she has began to urge me to research the sales because 'there are some excellent deals out there.' Not a lie, but still, considering the window of opportunity is beginning to close on the Son's EVER being in a position to control his own finances, it's time to move. To top that off, my sister's best friend's husband is a dealer at the Subaru near her and he's 'EXCELLENT' and 'can get me a good deal.' (Though, likely only on a Subaru.) I've always wanted a Jeep. I've already accepted that I'll not be able to afford the pretty purple Wrangler that sits teasingly in front of the local dealership - but saw today that a local dealership is offering NEW Jeep Cherokees, and I could lease for $169 a month. I supplied Oompa (the pain-in-the-ass) the phone number and instead of calling THEM to find out more about this 'special,' she called the dealer she knew. She then mentioned that he wouldn't recommend a Jeep (as no Subaru employee likely would) and that he recommended an Impreza or a Legacy and could get good deals on those cars for me. We could go see him on Saturday because he got my brother-in-law a good deal on HIS car - he would definitely do the same for me. I told her that those cars mentioned were NOT SUVs. And I had told her previously that I did not want anything other than a SUV. WHY was she pushing cars? Apparently, 'they have 4-wheel drive,' but, still. These are CARS. I told her, 'I am absolutely not wasting my time looking at cars when I already know what I want." "But why do you need such a big car?" I could NOT believe she'd just asked me that. I've never had a big car/SUV. Before my Avenger, I had a Neon. Before that, a Mitsubishi Mirage. My SISTER, (who is smaller than me) - has a GMC Acadia - that is a VERY large SUV. Why doesn't she ask HER why she needs such a big car? She has two kids - who combined, are still much smaller than my 12 year old. My 18 year old is bigger than ME. J is bigger and taller than me. What if I want to take my family somewhere? We're not all going to fit in a clown car! I told her I had my heart set on a Jeep. She then proceeds to tell me that I should look them up online - they're not the most reliable, they're not the safest (Subaru is) and they've got bad reputations. She actually went as far as to say she wouldn't 'cooperate,' should I not agree to keep an open mind and at least LOOK at cars that are 4WD. Yes, you heard correctly - SHE will not cooperate. Another manipulation tactic. I'm DONE with manipulation. In the course of my forty years, manipulation has been a constant. My mother and my ex being the two biggest offenders - the reason for that being they were people I depended on most. Yes, manipulation indeed goes hand-in-hand with dependency - for if you 'upset' or 'disappoint,' you lose a means of support - whether it is a GOOD source of support is irrelevant. What matters is, I THOUGHT these people actually were looking out for my best interests, and am sad to realize that this was never the case - it is a matter of what is more convenient for them, what THEY want. There were almost always ulterior motives. And I'm not even sure what my mother's motives are, here - was she trying to get my sister's friend's husband a commission? I finally said, 'Look - NOTHING pisses me off MORE than someone who tries to change my mind when I've made it clear what I'm looking for. I asked you to come along because you're good at negotiating with dealers (she is) and working out the best deals - but If you're not going to cooperate and help me find what I want to find, then I'll go without you and go buy myself a fucking Jeep!' That's when she said I should untwist my panties, the dealer would sell me whatever I wanted. I told her that if this 'excellent' dealer could show me an actual SUV (like the Forester - more the type and size I'm looking for) and beat the lease price of $169 a month for a Jeep, then we'd talk and see about getting him a commission. But that $169 a month was the right price for a car that I actually wanted - so why WOULD I settle for anything other than that? Is she paying for the car? No. Is she co-signing? No. So what's the fucking problem??? Safety? A Jeep would be safer than what I'm CURRENTLY driving. They're not known to be reliable? Well, that's why I'm better off LEASING, isn't it? Repair coverage. And after the lease is up, I'd be put into a brand-new car. There's not enough time for something to go wrong with it - if something does, it's covered. As it stands right now, I'm going to the dealership in the morning - armed with my dwindling patience, my checkbook and my manipulation-proof vest - I know all too well how it's going to go. She's going to try and push those 'cars' on me again - she's going to ask (again) why I need something so big...she'll get J to 'talk some sense into me,' and J is fully prepared to put her in her place - SHE likes Jeeps, too! It's just sad that I have to be this firm with my mother - at forty years old. That she still feels the need to control me and she CANNOT just let me make choices without trying to meddle. She has two other daughters, younger than me, and who LIVE closer to her than I do. Why can't she bother them!? In closing, I will let all of you know tomorrow of the following: Whether I need bail money and where to wire it; (I'll pay you back...someday?) Whether I get a new SUV tomorrow or I end up planning to 'buy a fucking Jeep on my own;' And whether my mother is still breathing, and carrying on with her usual day-to-day annoyances...she likely will be, as no matter how angry or annoyed or irritated I can get, I could honestly never hurt a fly. My tolerance for bullshit is at an ALL TIME low with my mother, and with my ex, both of whom are tied for top pain-in-the-ass! Some days, I just don't know who's worse. When I eventually figure it out, I'll let you all know. Hoping the rest of you are having a less stressful weekend. My best to you, - Capulet
  2. Well, would ya look at that...TWO blog entries in two weeks - a good start to my promise to do some more writing/mental uploading! This entry can mostly be attributed to Oompa's prompt and not-a-moment-too-soon departure on Thursday morning - she and my stepfather were here for two nights. My father (to many: 'Lord Capulet') and his wife were ALSO in town, and since Monday, I've spend every day with one or both of my parents and their spouses - 'the steps.' Yesterday afternoon was the first time we were ALL together, and I sat at the kitchen table with my four parents, having a cup of coffee while everyone conversed about what restaurants were close by, who had a coupon for what, which establishments offered senior discounts... As for me, I didn't care. I've BEEN trying to get back on the diet wagon - so I was slowly trying to get used to the fact that it would likely NOT happen tonight. Not with the restaurant names being thrown around. My brain would adjust to the idea of one restaurant, but then they'd yell out the name of a different one. Finally, I reclined, sipped my coffee, and let them figure it out for themselves. "What about Olive Garden? I have a $5 off of $30!" "Wait, wait! Texas Roadhouse? $4 off two adult entrees!!" "Longhorns? Don't they have a fifty-five and up menu for seniors?" "I don't have a coupon for (insert less-famous local eatery here), do we want to call them and see if they're offering any early-bird specials?" I managed to get through an ENTIRE cup of coffee while they threw ideas at each other. And I'm not usually a quick coffee drinker, usually there's a small amount left in the mug when I finally dump it into the sink. My answer was the same whenever asked - 'Sure. Whatever you guys want.' I'm not sure who suggested what, but they decided on Texas Roadhouse, so we clipped the coupon and my father's wife tucked it carefully into her purse - then the next 'discussion' began. Now, it was 'what time are we leaving????' I had no idea what time we would be leaving but I knew it was, at the very least, time for a second cup of coffee. I'm not sure if I even knew what time everyone agreed on leaving my house - at this point, I was no longer really paying attention. But somehow, I caught glimpses of what my mother was NOW talking about. She started talking about the invitation on the table for my nephew and niece's dual birthday party. My nephew will be five and my niece will be turning one. My sister, in an effort to kill two birds with one stone, planned a party for both kids on a Saturday in between their month-apart birthdays. She talked a little bit about how my youngest niece 'got the short end of the stick' because both my nephew and my OTHER sister's kid had both had 'big' parties for their first birthdays. So again, I stared into my coffee while once in a while looking up and pretending to be interested in their conversation. Only, next time I did 'check in,' she was in the middle of asking my father for a favor. I didn't get all of it, but I saw, '...pick him up...' and 'on your way home, if you could drop him off...' Wait, what? I snapped back into reality. I interrupted and asked her what she was talking about. I think she'd assumed by now that I was comfortably situated in la-la land and that she'd be able to discuss this without my input. She was wrong, though, and she kind of paused, took a deep breath, and said: "Well, you know...your sister invited your uncles to the kids' birthday party in March." She might've seen the smoke beginning to shoot out of my ears, I'm sure of it, because she trailed off with, "...and she wants Uncle B to do the balloons for the kids and and they have no way of getting there...so, I thought your father could maybe give them a ride..." "Are you fucking kidding me?" I cut her off. I didn't care that I was surrounded by the four people who raised me and although Oompa has heard me swear a number of times, Lord Capulet is not used to seeing me angry. Maybe it's because around him, I'm rarely angry. My father doesn't push nor test my limits like my mother does. Well - consider them currently pushed to the maximum, because I was LIVID now. * Here is some background information, to clear up any confusion at this point - by 'my uncles,' I am referring to my mother's brother (Uncle L) and his very long time partner (Uncle B). Their relationship is as strange as it can be - they've not outwardly admitted to being gay, even after living together (in separate bedrooms) for over forty years. Uncle L is a 'priest;' (the air quotations are being used VERY loosely here) - however, he's ALWAYS been a phony and I've some VERY strong suspicions of his being guilty of a lot of wrongdoing during my childhood days. Uncle B, I believe, is his asexual domestic partner and for as long as I could remember, has had a talent for making balloon animals. Of the two, he's the more harmless, more likable, but unfortunately remains faithful to my uncle. It makes it VERY difficult to consider him family, but he is the one I will say a polite 'hello' to while I'd walk past and avoid the uncle whose blood I share like the plague. I asked Oompa to tell me again, HOW this fucking idiot got invited to a kids' party. She repeated herself. Uncle B's been asked to make the animal balloons. Yep. Got that. Uncle L would come along with him. He IS after all, blood, and wanted to see the kids for their birthday. I rolled my eyes. "He's just an old man, we'll put him on the opposite end of the room..." My mother, by now is trying to calm me down because I'm starting to lose my shit. Dad and the steps - both quiet. I went off on her. "You mean to tell me (my sister) can't hire a fucking clown that can make balloon animals that already lives in New Jersey that has his own means of transportation, isn't over seventy years old and isn't required to lug along his pet piece-of-shit wherever he goes?" "Stoppp..." my mother's WELL aware of how pissed off I am - I'm SURE she, by now was regretful of having brought this up in my company and was silently kicking herself. But I am realizing that it's even more fucked up that she would deny me this information and sooner allow me to walk into my nephew's and niece's birthday party to find THAT fucking douche-bag sitting there. Staring at me - because that's what he does, given the opportunity. His eyes are unsettling, piercing, and whenever I see him, he's looking. RIGHT at me. "I'm not coming," I finally said, "I'll send a present for each of them, but if he's there, I won't be." My father and his wife gave each other a look. My mother just sighed and asked if I'd really do that to my nephew and niece. My niece, at a year old, would be fine if Auntie Cap wasn't there, but I KNOW my nephew would be looking for me. Well, SHIT. No, I'd probably not disappoint him, if you're going to put it that way. My nephew is totes my little buddy - despite his parents, who are as fake as they come. NO, I would not do that to him, but I CANNOT be expected to be as I normally am, with HIM there. "Wait..." My father's wife finally said breaking the silence that had come over the kitchen table, "What is going on, here?" Ahhhh, that's right. I'd not told anyone about my suspicions. I'd given Oompa alternate reason for not liking Uncle L, reasons that seemingly don't fit a meltdown of this caliber. I've decided she's never going to get all of the reasons - I can't trust her. Just when I think I can TRY, she goes and pulls bullshit like this! Obviously, my mother had never shared with my father my hatred for Uncle L, either. I felt...cornered. No, this wasn't a good thing - this wasn't a good TIME. No way in hell was I getting into something I wasn't prepared for. INITIATE SHUT-DOWN SEQUENCE, I could hear my brain saying, in that robot voice. Over and over. Don't think. Don't scramble for words. Just get OUT of this! And so, I did. I was only able to say that I wanted nothing to do with him - he was a horrible person and I didn't want to be around him. My Dad and stepmother were even more confused - when asked why, Oompa proceeded in telling the story I'd been giving her for the last decade and a half. It did help that there was actually credence to these things - and surely, they're reason to dislike him but I'm sure my mother KNOWS there is more beneath the surface - and she's likely playing me at my own game - only sharing what I've been willing to share with her. Perhaps she's hoping someone else knows more and she can get more details out of them. The only one to know the entire reason is J...and although Oompa HAS tried to question J a couple of times over the years, my lovely wifey has claimed she knows nothing and is faithfully guarding that information. I hold the control that way - and I know that my secrets are safer that way, too. So, I sat back, fuming, while my father and stepmother listened, and my mother rattled off the reasons for my not liking my uncle. Here's why I don't like my uncle and why the thought of seeing him sends me into a panic, a rage. According to Oompa, of course, and now, according to Lord Capulet and his wife: He'd allowed my grandmother to live her final days in FILTH - she lived downstairs from him. There were cracks in her floors, roaches crawling up the walls, a nasty odor in the air. He'd originally fought my mother on letting her live her last days at home - he wanted to put her in a nursing home because 'he couldn't take care of her.' My mother did EVERYTHING she could to tend to my grandmother - at the time, she worked at a public school and she'd first go to my grandmother's house every day for a few hours before coming home. She arranged for an in-home aide to tend to, feed, assist my grandmother while my uncle did what he does best - nothing. When she died - he wasted NO time in 'removing' her from the house, so that he (and Uncle B) could make renovations to the entire downstairs apartment she lived in - and transform it into a church. He had a chapel upstairs but had been making plans to redo her living room into a congregation room. This man HAS no congregation - he says mass daily, or so he claimed years ago - now that he's slowly becoming senile. He (possibly with the help of his 'partner,') cheated my mother out of her inheritance. My grandmother was NOT the sharpest tool in the shed and was someone who was very easily manipulated. Somehow, Uncle B convinced my grandmother (when she first became ill) to sell HIM her half of the house - she owned half, and Uncle L already owned the other half. Uncle B bought the remaining half - for 20 grand, so now, the house was entirely theirs. A brick house in Brooklyn goes for WAY more than that - yes, the house was a DUMP - but it was still my mother's childhood home and she'd NOT been given the opportunity to purchase the house if she wanted to. They'd gone behind her back. A little work could have been put into it - some renovations, perhaps - and it would have put the value MUCH higher than what Uncle B paid. Regardless, my ailing grandmother took the money and put it away - she willed that 20K to be split among her three children upon her death - my mother, Uncle L and their sister, who predeceased them all. When she finally did pass, 'half' of THAT money now belonged to Uncle L - leaving my mother with a measly 10K - and her brother with the house and all of her earthly possessions that could be sold/distributed, etc. My mother used 'her inheritance' to pay for the funeral, leaving her with very little money and maybe a few trinkets, including my grandmother's wedding ring that she'd wanted my Mom to have, (that she'd had to fight my uncle for - there was a time he claimed he couldn't find it - she cleverly told him that since it was willed to her, she'd hold him responsible for the monetary value of the ring - he had a change of heart very shortly afterwards and told her that miraculously he 'found' it) - or he'd have pawned them for even more money to pad his own pockets. (Admittedly, my father looked shocked at this point - BOTH he and his wife did.) Sadly, this is only enough to label him as simply an unsavory, dishonest person - but sometimes I wonder if this is enough to explain why I'd say I don't want anything to do with him - I don't even mind his partner, Uncle B, too much. EVEN if he'd been dishonest with my grandmother and DID purposely cheat my mother out of what she was entitled to, I don't hate him. I just don't want Uncle L near me or my kids, I don't think he should be around my nephew and nieces - I might've said too that I didn't understand how the asshole had more lives than all five of my cats combined, death had evaded him more times than I could count. One doesn't wish death upon a miserly old man - especially one who is seemingly already paying the hefty price of his past greed - he relies on Uncle B entirely, needs 24/7 care, his knees are shot. He cannot walk, he doesn't go anywhere. He sits at home, day in and day out - and according to my mother, has forgotten names of some of his nieces and nephews - he's called my sister my name, or he's questioned my mother in reference to my sisters, "the one in the middle," or "the niece of mine who's in the medical field." My mother has said he's 'slowly' losing his mind, but if you ask me, he's never had full possession of his mind! I didn't know what pissed me off more - the whole invitation thing, or that she was asking my father to shuttle his disgusting ass to and from a party that I'm not looking forward to going to, anymore - or that she was making excuses for a piece of shit who doesn't deserve them! And my stupid, fucking sister! We've HAD conversations about our uncle before. Granted, not THE conversation - but she is WELL aware of how I feel about him. Yet she invites him to a kiddie party!? Where Uncle B, when he's not playing with fucking balloons, is going to be running around with a goddamned camera and taking pictures so that Uncle L can have them. As if the creep doesn't stare enough! I remember when my sister (this same one) got married - seeing him was unavoidable - he was at the wedding - the church part - and he had to walk past me to walk out. Uncle B was behind him and as soon as he was next to me, he whips out the camera - "Let's take a picture!!!!" Not a good place to cause a scene - my sister's special day...so I put on the fakest smile I could manage and held my breath. My daughter was standing a few feet away and I might've made up an elaborate story about how I didn't want her to mistake the holy water for a drinking fountain and walked away as soon as he'd snapped a photo. My father didn't confirm whether he would pick up Uncle B and the douche-pig and drop them back home on the day in question - but at least he's got some things to think about, now. Unfortunately, since I was in no position to fully explain my outburst, I feel that I have lost this battle and this, like my sister's wedding, will turn into another one of those 'can't be helped' situations - even though it COULD have been - if only my family had my back. It further proves that they do not, and that when it suits them, they'll not think twice about making me uncomfortable. I'll wonder if it is partially my fault, I've not exactly been straight-up with them about my suspicions - instead, I've allowed them to believe a different set of reasons for my hatred toward him. It's something I will regret having done - but at the same time, I can't imagine ever being ready to share the truth with any of them. How can I, though? I can't trust ANY of them! Anyway...it's taken me two days to get all of this out. Normally, a blog entry takes about a day, with me getting up in between writing sessions, with interruptions being frequent, with having to constantly put my writing on hold because of things that come up in 'real life.' However, reality has made itself known in ways that very few people know about right now - and I've been HIGHLY emotional. I will likely get to all of those details in a future entry, though - for it's taken me THIS long to finish THIS particular thought - THIS was put on hold by the 'other thing,' and now the other thing needs some further internalizing before I can discuss it fully and with some of my emotions still intact and without losing my mind. The short of it, though - we are losing one of our fur babies. It was a very unexpected development starting with the loss of function in both of his hind legs. He's been diagnosed with 'saddle thrombus.' Nothing can be done for him - and as he's seemingly not in pain, we have decided to let him live out his remaining days at home for as long as he's not struggling. The moment he does show that he is starting to suffer, though, we'll be taking the hours-long drive to the vet that is only 20 minutes away. As of right now, though, he cannot walk and has to be carried wherever he'd like to be, has to have his food and litter pan near him (within drag-distance) and has to be watched closely for any changes. J and I are devastated, we have spent the last couple of days crying off and on - and all of this bullshit with my mother and my uncle - seems so, very unimportant right now. I second-guessed posting this entry, too - it seems SILLY to bit*h about a party guest who might not even remember my name - when there are far more important things to be concerned with - especially when it concerns a loved one who DESERVES more 'time' than he's been given. More later. Want to release this entry before it becomes THREE days! I will be back with another update as soon as I can string together coherent thoughts on the rest of it without bursting into tears. The tear dam has already broken - it usually takes a LOT for me to be able to cry - and the last couple days have shown me that I, as much as I'd love to, cannot control the flow of tears. Hoping all of you are well. , - Capulet
  3. "Rape is the only crime where the victim is interrogated as the subject of interest. Little attention is placed on the perpetrator's behavior, if any." Once attacked as a child, the math odds do not improve in the longterm favor of the victim. This establishes a pattern that it's okay for silence and repeat abuse. It doesn't matter who or what is responsible for the original criminal act, what's important is that the victim doesn't internalize the crime. Why would I think this way? Not only does a victim/survivor have to fight the original crime, but the aftermath of the mob. They are mathematically -- atrocious odds. Personally, I didn't come up with the example of math and casinos. It was two males at Stanford who did. That too, pissed me off. It is an opinion that the Reid Technique from 1947 -- is part of this horrible gap in lost time, lost wages, broken families and other longterm consequences that are offloaded onto the victims. Commercial entities also use these interview and interrogation method... but first, as a female, the religious nut jobs have to have their Spanish Inquisition jab. "Is she diseased?" "Is she of childbearing years?" "Is she married?" THIS IS STRAIGHT OUT OF THEIR BOOK, "Blame Victim (Company or Supervisor)" page 217 "Use. This rationalization can be used for theft or damage to property. The victim can be blamed in almost any crime from a homicide, to a sex crime, to theft. The guilt is transferred to the victim by the interrogator who portrays the suspect as a victim of circumstances. The suspect became involved because the victim dressed or acted a certain way, flaunted their wealth, or made advances to the suspect." STOP RIGHT THERE. I want a complete list of every human who has attended this Reid course, used this method AGAINST rape survivors and bought this damned book. While I won't burn it, I will stare holes into it. AND I will stare holes into the website of the two men authors who are of 'lofty credentials' in this so-called fake justice nation. I FLIPPED YOUR 1947 MONEY RETIREMENT STRATEGY SCRIPT YOU BASTARDS. Legally, nobody is required to pass a religious test in this particular country. Nor are they fully required to submit their body to examination without legal representation. MIRANDA -- how odd is this warning label from a foreign rapist trial who got off on a technicality? I have the right to scream decades later because yelling is not against the law. I have the right to insult the academic masses who have financially benefitted off of 'rape research' but have yet figured out how to resolve the K-12 anatomical education in the classrooms. I have the right to tell the male judge and male lawyer that they are assholes when they collude on the insensitivity bandwagon and I'm reduced to tears in a trial. I have a right to interrogate the backgrounds of the medical practitioners who might believe my body is their evidence playground. I have a right to make sure any documentation about me in a file contains no bias about what people think of me... but rather facts. Most importantly, I have a right to laugh, to pursue my own path of healing and to investigate what is best for my life. I am not to be categorically dumped into a group or groups for research purposes, nor am I to be used as a 'rape prevention' tool or mouthpiece. I have a right to my personhood, my thoughts and my future. I have a right to refute Stasi-like tactics from a University-backed funding pool that is propped up by extremist patriarchy political channels. I have a right to my data accuracy and it not being propagated into a big data lake. I have a right to my female brain which is absolutely no different than a male brain. Mine happens to work logically and analytically and I can shut down the emotions just like a male with a light switch. I have a right to work with my anger and find the beauty in it as opposed to the myths attached to female anger. I have the right to my own emotions and I don't need your campy zen Corporate bunny fluff self-coddling because I came from that campy Corporate training environment and played the politics there. Yes -- Yes, I am terribly pissed off that the former Presidential administration used the financial anti-terrorism "fine" to supposedly fund rape kits and forensics. You filthy bastard of Ivy League might not realize some of us have been working on Iran things long before you entered the State of Illinois politics. We had to sit in those long gas lines during the seventies while we were given that delightful shitty government education in the middle of nowhere. Thanks for using our pool as human shields for your Middle East agenda. (In the event you two nincompoops didn't realize that human shields are against the Geneva Convention.) They ONLY went to where the huge foundation money goes -- Universities -- and didn't even dance in the K-12 ring. Common sense says... if you're raped into PTSD as a kid into teens -- college isn't even in the forecast. Thanks assholes. That's the early childhood education your political strategy neglected. In the event the original officers who destroyed a rape kit seven years after the first rape don't see the crime scene tape... they're not allowed to cross that line. I am evidence. I am not property. You'll not stuff me in your evidence lab rat room for observation. I am a survivor... and I also have a right to be mad as hell.
  4. Greetings. I'm new to the forum. Hoping to find closure after suppressing my feelings of anger and denial for some years. Living in hope that that day will come!
  5. Hello, friends! Sending my usual apologies for not having updated in a while. For the first time in several days, I can sincerely say we’re thawed out. The new boiler is working nicely - we now have heat and hot water in addition to the restoring of our electricity and internet. The kids went back to school this week; a lot of families in the area didn’t have power for the entire week last week following the winter storm, so the school district had some mercy on us all and closed the schools for the entire week while electric, oil, propane, cable companies all worked hard to get us all back up and running. Of course, my bank account is going to be quite sad for a while, now that we have to come up with a way of funding the new boiler, which is now on Oompa’s credit card. I may have to consider selling my eggs. I make cute kids. Anyway, amidst all this there was the usual wasband drama. We never seem to go without. We’ve gotten to the point where his name is mentioned and all eyes begin rolling. Mine, J’s and depending on how they feel about him, the kids’. I cannot express to you all enough how much misery this man puts me through. Even now, when I’m not married to him anymore and he now has a wife (his third) that he can annoy on a daily basis. He has a new wife that he can order around, a woman who once was tough but now has succumbed to his endless manipulation. No, I don’t feel bad for her, but at the same time, I do understand it all because the emotional abuse didn’t stop once the divorce papers were signed. Because we share two children in common (and that’s about all we share that matters) he still seizes any and all opportunities to remind me that he is right, he knows best, he’s never wrong, and I am one hundred percent wrong, every single time. Of course, that’s what he says initially, but after the volcano that is the wasband erupts, he cools down and somehow remembers how to talk rationally. Even then, he wastes no effort in proving why he was right in the first place. All I end up doing is nodding my head, because really, what the fuck is the point? Nothing I say is going to be right and I don’t have the energy to argue. I’m sick of seeing his pissed off face, the look of disgust when I talk to him or even try to tell him how I feel about something, the 'whatevers’ when I know I’m right and he does, too, and he just doesn’t want to give me an iota of credit. I’m so tired, guys. I’m REALLY tired. Know though, that the wasband came from a broken, abusive home and he’s been on his own since he was a teenager. Add to that he’s ex-military. By now, he’s alienated his entire family, and I do have to say that most of it was for justified reasons, but at the same time, it has destroyed him as a person. He has only the concept of his own family, everyone else’s family is irrelevant to him. I know he’s capable of being a good person when he wants to, but his need to control everything and everybody around him overshadows his finer qualities, as few of them as there are. And now, he’s managed to brainwash our children into agreeing with everything he says because they’re afraid of what he’ll say to them if they don’t. There’s so much I want to say to him, so much I want to scream at him, but I don’t because, what’s the point? He’ll come back at me with the usual belittling bullshit he’s mastered in the nearly 20 years I know him. He is truly an ugly, UGLY man, and right now I want to punch him in the face. All I can do at the moment is hope for another stent collapse in the near future because REALLY, there is nothing at all short of his passing that will free us from this man’s influence. And then there’s the subsequent feeling of guilt for having admitted that much because that’s just plain horrible of me to say. Let’s get this straight, I’ll never hate him. As much as his behavior is tedious, tiresome and unreasonable, he IS still the father of my children and he provides. And so, I often have to force myself to soothe their ruffled feathers every now and then but I’m running out of ways to do that. He doesn’t defend me to them, I’m sure. Whenever they have an issue with me, for whatever reason, they bring it to him and of course, I get lectured about it and reminded of why I’m wrong. He actually had the balls to tell me that they were losing respect for me, when ironically, their complaints about HIM have escalated in recent months. However, when they come to me with problems they have with him, we listen and shake our heads, but we certainly don’t go running back to him. We don’t get that luxury. He’d just tell us we’re wrong, so again, what’s the point? God, I absolutely hate how he is. I hate how he intimidates everyone around him, including our children. Right now my daughter is grounded from all of her electronics, TV and social media because he feels she intentionally harmed her little sister when they were roughhousing. My daughter claims and insists she didn’t mean for the little one to get hurt, but he flat-out accused her. And so, I tried not to laugh when my daughter gave my phone the finger when she saw her father’s number pop up. I spoke with the wasband over FaceTime and told him that I truly didn’t believe it was our daughter’s intent to hurt her sister, and he immediately started yelling at me and saying that by saying that, I was enabling her behavior. And so I nodded. Said, “okay.” Said nothing more for the duration of the conversation. I don’t think I heard much more of what he had to say after accusing me of enabling her bad behavior. I saw just his face get all ugly, his sneering, his lip curls. And so, like a robot, whenever he said ‘am I right?’ I would just nod. Because I’m not in the mood to carry on this conversation forever because that’s about as long as it would take for him to see anything in the same perspective as me. You see, my own brain was going a mile a minute. I know she has been acting out more than usual recently. She HAS had an attitude lately, she HAS been defiant, she HAS been different since we moved here. She’s also 11 years old, 12 in a few months. She’s expressed how much she hates it here, she’s said she misses her friends, she’s unhappy with the way she’s being treated in school. Not to mention, if she’s anything like me, her first period is likely on the horizon somewhere and she’s hormonal. I brought up all of these points to him, not only to defend her but because I truly believe that’s why she’s behaving in the manner she is. But basically, I was told to shut up and that I was allowing her to behave negatively and making excuses for her. Thank GOD I have this place to vent, because I’m beginning to reach my boiling point with him and his bullshit. He’s not only causing problems within his own relationship with our kids, but he’s also the cause of a lot of family drama and almost every issue I have with my family has to do with him in SOME way. I’m reminded of the letters my T in the past had told me to write to my abusers but never to send. He certainly qualifies as one. Last week’s events have made me think so much of what I’d want to say to him but because I’m still, to a point, afraid of what he’ll do or say in retaliation (For example, would he further brainwash my kids? Turn them against me? Fight me for custody? Make my life difficult in any and every way imaginable because he has acquired enough control over me and groomed me whilst married to him?) and so I don’t say these things. I’m quiet. I agree with him even when I truly don’t. Then when we get home, I’m pacing the floor hollering about what a jerk he is and trying to convince myself not to give a shit because I know it’s not worth pressing whatever issue it is - because I will never win. So, I’ll just say it here. I’d love to say to him - Knock it off, asshole! I’m sick and tired of being a puppet, I’m not your wife anymore, I’m nothing to you other than the mother of your children. You don’t treat ANY of your children’s mothers with the respect they deserve, not only for bearing your children but also for putting up with you and your fucking mind games for however long they did. If anything, we should be nominated for sainthood because YOU are not an easy man to be with, yet we tried our best to love you, to please you. Apparently we all failed at that, because pleasing you often means we have to sacrifice our own personal happiness because all you truly think about is your own damn self. Contrary to what you believe, you’re NOT the stand-up guy you THINK others see you as, no one will admit it to you because you’ve made everyone so afraid of you and rather than allow you to belittle them and make them feel an inch tall, the safer route is just to go along with whatever you say. But here’s the truth. No one can stand you. Everyone I’ve met has expressed a complaint about you that I’ve kept to myself out of respect for YOU. I’ve defended you for the sake of keeping the peace and in return, you continue to treat me like shit. You treat your kids like shit. You treat your current wife like shit, and like I was, she’s stuck because you’ve also alienated her family. You, sir, are going to die a miserable fucking old man with no one (except your children maybe, and that’s only because they have unconditional love for their father) to miss your militant, domineering ass. And when your kids finally give up on you and decide they’re sick of your shit, too, do NOT look to me for help because you’re on your fucking own, buddy. Just like whenever I need help with one of them, I’m on my own and then you proceed to ADD to the fucking problem rather than offer up a solution as a co-parent should. Yes, you provide, and yes, our children have clothes, food, anything they could ever want, but we need more than that. We need compassion that you’re not capable of showing, we need warmth that you’re void of as well, and we need compromise, whereas with you there is absolutely fucking NONE. I’m SICK of pretending to like you for the sake of our kids’ sanity, when in all honesty, I hate more things about you than I ever loved. In fact, I don’t understand myself for having ever married your ass. I’ll say it was temporary insanity when others ask me what the fuck I ever saw in you, but you know, when I ask myself the same question, I’m not even sure anymore. I truly believe you came along at a vulnerable point in my life and it was a time I was VERY easily manipulated and you saw an opportunity and charmed me into leaving home, moving in with you, raising your children. I THOUGHT I loved you because you, being the master of deception you are, convinced me that you would protect me, you would support me, you actually said you loved me quite a bit back then, and I responded in kind. But, truthfully, I think I was only in love with the idea of the stability you promised we’d have but we never really reached that point. We had money problems, we fought constantly, and of course, you won every single fucking argument because you would verbally batter me down to a pulp, as you continued to do even after our divorce. Thank you for that, by the way. Best fucking thing you could have ever given me aside from our perfect son and daughter. We always had chaos, I did most of the caring for the kids with little to no thanks from you verbal or otherwise. There was ONLY criticism because nothing I did ever measured up. Or it wasn’t done the way you wanted it done. Or if I were to argue with anything you said, I’d be in for a fight that lasted all week and it’d be a quarrel that I emotionally couldn’t and wouldn’t sustain, so rather than argue, I went along with every damn thing you said, even if I didn’t agree. And like a fucking asshole, I still do it, because you’ve trained me well. But I was truly MISERABLE, you asshole, and even if you did notice it, you did and said nothing about it. You’re a horrible husband…you tormented your first wife, you were horrible to me, you are currently an ogre to your wife. You're quick to call other people 'pieces of shit,' but lemme ask you, what the hell do you see when you look in the mirror??? It BAFFLES me that you don’t see what just about EVERYONE else does. But, you know, you’ll find that out when you close your eyes for the last time, most likely alone. I believe that in that moment before death, your life flashes before your eyes and I hope you finally understand the wrath you impose on the people closest to you. And I hope to hell you regret it. I hope you truly understand what people who have crossed paths with in life see when they see you. And guess what, you piece of shit? It’s going to be way too late to go back and make amends, to right all of your wrongs. You’re already nearing the point of no return with your own KIDS, how much more of your crap do you think they’re going to take?? Your way is not always the best way, and you NEED to learn to let things be, everyone would be so much happier. And hell, maybe you’ll fucking LIVE longer, too. All of the stress you claim you have (and probably blame everyone else for) is mostly brought on by your own damn self. So…wake the fuck up! Aaaaaah. To you guys, I say thanks again for hearing me rant. I’m sure there’s more that I’d love to say, no…SCREAM in his face, but this will have to do for now, as my own little inner volcano is now empty. I feel cleansed a little, maybe my former T was onto SOMETHING. And believe me, she wasn't right about everything. Going to try to turn in for now. Tomorrow (or rather, today) is a new day. Going to envision his face on my pillow and beat it up a little bit for good measure. - Capulet
  6. Ticking Time Bomb

    I feel like a there is an internal timer counting down until I snap. Every day gets worse and worse and I'm terrified that I'm going to snap. I have these episodes of overwhelming anger and it's getting more difficult to hold it in. I can barely sleep and I have absolutely no motivation to do anything. I can't remember when exactly these episodes started happening, but they used to be so rare even up to a year ago. Now they are happening everyday. I don't know how to deal with this. My dad also doesn't help. He is a huge bully and likes to pick on my siblings and me. Especially when we are at our most vulnerable. This has been happening all our lives so I'm used to it, but with my anger issues, it's starting to get to me. I want to throw things. I want to break things. I've already cracked the granite counter with a large knife a few weeks ago because I saw red and lost control. That's exactly it: I see red, lose control, and then I go into almost like a trance, and come back to reality. I can't do this anymore. I need help....
  7. Hello, I am new to this group. This is my first post. I was raped 29 years ago at the age of 18. I delt with it by blaming myself for getting drunk. (Now, I know that's not true, he is the one who took from me what I did not give. He is to blame.) I never reported it, never told my parents. For reasons I can't explain, it's coming up and out now. I am feeling the pain, fear, and panic of my 18 year old self, NOW. The nice people at rape call centers didn't know what to do to help me. I am having trouble finding people like me. Who understand how and why I was able to keep all these painful feelings hidden away for so long, because they did the same thing. I'm sure there are other people like me. I hope to get help here. The help that comes from listening to other people's experiences and stories. The help that comes from hearing how someone was able to move out of the darkness into the light. I don't know how to change myself from victim to survivor. Thank you for reading this. one more thing. I am old, and I am having trouble navigating this site. If anyone has suggestions of where to look, how to look, and what to look for, I'd appreciate it. I don't even know if I am posting this in the right place...
  8. This week was a bad, the worst one I have had since the memories started to return. I survived it with few new scars, but only because AS was here, I made a post about my father and his blog, and what he published about me. A full page of fictional material created to sublimate my life into something more comfortable for him I guess. Either way, it hurt more that he refused to validate my existence, my story, my trauma, and turned it into something that vilified me and made HIM the victim. I had such an outpouring of love and support from my brothers and sisters here on AS that I was able to turn the blow to my already wounded psyche, and today I am in such a better and stronger place for it. Hugs to everyone on the house! ((((((AS))))) Friday I had my first discernable panic attack. We were on the freeway, luckily I wasn't the one driving when it happened. It was raining a little bit, nothing out of the ordinary for Washington, and traffic was a little thick but not too bad. Out of no where I became convinced we were about to crash into another vehicle. We weren't even close to the other cars on the road, but that didn't seem to make a difference. We were going to hit them, and I couldn't breath right. I started to sweat, and my heart started to pound, and my mind went fuzzy, and my vision started to blur around the edges. For the rest of the afternoon, when we were in the car I was absolutely certain we were going to crash into something, another car, an overpass post, a curb, a tree it didn't matter, if I could see it, we were going to smash into it. The feeling lasted long after I had gotten home, ready for work, and had in fact driven myself to work... sweaty palmed and hyper alert. It was the most concrete evidence I have to date that I am ultimately vulnerable to these memories of "ancient" history, at least emotionally. Like I said, a very bad week. But after my wife came to me, woke me up, angry and upset having just read an entry on my fathers public blog condemning me as a sl*t and a w**re, and a manipulator, and a monster, I woke up feeling ashamed, angry, weak, pathetic, loathsome, and dirty. As soon as my wife left for work, I went into the kitchen and picked up a bottle of rum. I looked at it for a very long minute... then put it back in the fridge. I am not that person any more, I will never conquer my demons if I am not 100% in control of myself. I would rather be a slave to my demons, I didn't create them. Acknowledging what happened to me, and joining the After Silence site, has by far been the hardest and most rewarding thing that I have done in recent history, and I hope that I can contribute as much to the others here as they have already contributed to me. Thank you for validating my existence as a viable human being, giving me strength, understanding, and hope. God Bless us, every one.
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