Welcome to the garden of the mind: full of flowers, weeds, and squishy mud to wriggle your toes into, and I'm always willing to share an over-abundance of worms. Useful critters, worms. :-) This page is here to maybe help, in its small way, the survivors of abuse of any kind (though I do mention potentially triggering things). It is a safe space- you are welcomed here. If you don't like worms, I usually have plants on the go, too. :-)
Monday, April 9, 2012
Ketchup, Catsup, whatever you call that tomato sauce
So, It's Been A While, Hasn't It?
"Life, don't talk to me about life..."- Marvin, The Paranoid Android.
And, that's what's been happening while I was "gone". Life. Seeing new places, meeting new people, learning new things- some of them about myself. How nice, I've been getting introspective. Don't worry, it doesn't last long. Anyway, life has "interfered" in it's trade-mark way by removing nearly all semblance of free-time from my days: I'm building a business- slowly, but I have one. I make costumes, custom clothing and jewellery. It doesn't pay much, at the moment- it can't, when you only do a few commissions a year. But, hey, it's something to build on...
Cue nested "bullet" lists:
-Kani, the fellow in that first, long ago post, turned out to be The One. I ended up spending more and more time down here, so I finally just said "screw this visiting flot..." I'm not sure who proposed to who- my mind keeps insisting it was a mutually-arrived-upon decision, but, by the end of that last trip, there was an engagement-ring and we were filling out forms... and forms... and more forms... Ugh. What does it say about a country where one must ask permission to ask permission for an entry visa?
- I finally made the Big Move to the U.S. on April 2nd, 2009.I felt like I was committing a crime in my attempts to strip down my stuff to the "minimum" I could stand to part with and still have it fit in a 6x8 U-Haul and the back of a Prius with the back seats pulled out. Kani still had to ship two car-loads of fabric, books and my music-collection to his parents first...
-The border-guards had fun with our arrival- didn't make us wait too long (is sitting around bored out of our scaly minds for an hour and a half too long?), but Kani got to see their faces when they opened up the back of the trailer. Apparently, they pulled out a few things, shook their heads at the enormity of the task, put back the items and locked the doors, counting that one as a loss. I have no difficulties believing this- that trailer was a solid BLOCK of belongings. I've since cut even more stuff from my "hoard"- but that came later. Diva was the only cat I could bring with us, and, well, let's just say she doesn't travel well. Poor thing.
- Three months that Entry-visa gave us, three months to plan the wedding, invite guests, make up cards, decide what we were going to eat, how to decorate and what to wear. Let it be known that I was called "Bridezilla" in the most respectful and admiring manner possible, due to the amazement people felt at the insane amount of work I did in that time. Heck, I'm amazed, too- I doubt I could repeat a performance like this:
-I designed both of our outfits,
-Drafted the patterns,
-Sewed them up- barely in time, I might add.
-I made the invitations that we printed and sent out.
-I suggested a menu and a wedding-theme (Midsummer Night's Dream, as it was going to be on the Summer Solstice),
-Provided a recipe I'd come up with years ago for cream of leek soup (so thick, it might as well be a stew).
-I even made our wedding-rings and the large torcs that we now wear on special occasions!
-Started on the decorations for the day and the broom we would jump over (Pagan thing, remember?), but had to leave the remainder to some very patient volunteers, while I finished up our regalia, which we still wear to special-occasions, like the geek conventions we go to most years.
-Kani felt more than a little left out of the fuss, so he was designated "Music and Medieval Foods Researcher".
We didn't have much time to rehearse anything, so the moment of truth had some stumbles- all on live web-cam feed, so my mother and brothers could watch it in real time back home in Winnipeg. A sweetie by the nickname of "Synge" was responsible for that. Technically, there were two ceremonies- the main one for the Muggles was a Pagan-oriented arrangement, with a lovely lady we were lucky to find as our officiant. The other was earlier in the morning, and was a more... personal ritual. Both Kani and I are dragons- that's often how we see ourselves- and this was a different sort of bonding-ceremony with our dragon-selves specifically in mind. One of our specially-invited friends, SeHT, came all the way from Britain to head a ritual he and I designed. We're still looking for time and money to do a honeymoon... :-p
-We then took up residence in Kani's apartment- nice place, actually. I even had space for my first studio. Life continued: we settled into this mystery called "married life"- it was a mystery to me, in any case. I'd never been married before. :-p I've lived with people, been hand-fasted once for a year, but married? No way- Terrakian barely knows what love is, let alone that she'll actually get to experience it. My final opinion? It's like any other day, just with two people to consider, who happen to prefer each other's company. >^__^<
-From there, we lived. That's pretty much it. We had our first arguments, lots of fun, pondered when we could look for a house (or if we could afford one, even with the burst real-estate bubble dropping high-prices like flies). We decided to find out what we wanted in the realm of neighbourhoods, landscape, environment, and so on. We both seemed to agree on these parameters: fewer neighbours, less noise, cleaner air ('cuz of my asthma), somewhere up high and close to nature... Ok, that's pretty much most folk's idea of a dream-environment, right? How the flying HECK were we going to find such a thing that wasn't stratospherically-expensive and not already crowded with people wanting the same thing?
Turns out, we had a couple of friends who lived in a wee town called Crestline, and it had everything we were looking for. Now, it was look for a place to rent for a year to see how well we adapt to a higher altitude, getting more exercise, cooler temperatures (there is snow up here, something Kani never had in Santa Monica), and being so remote, that you NEED a car, or preferably, a 4x4 truck (roads of doom and snow), and residents don't get mail to their door, just a PO box at the local USPS. It was remote, night-life is non-existent, little social-contact, too many churches of the scary Evangelical sort, but the locals were friendly anyway, even to as odd a couple as we were. :-)
Kani looks so average-geek, few notice him. Then, there's me: short, dark, stretched piercings, newly-forming dredz with colourful beads, shells and wound thread woven in, Punky/Gothy/Hippie clothing-style. But, it's obvious to anyone who see us that we're a couple- we're joined not only at the constantly-held hands, but at the brain. :-D
-We moved up here in May of 2011, and we've decided to stay. The official house-search was started mid-February and we've hit on two wonderful properties that we now have to make a choice between. As luck would have it, we prefer opposite houses. :-| Drat. So many houses up here for sale... O___o Kani just will not believe me when I tell him there seems like a good fifth to a third of the properties are up for sale, in foreclosure, close to foreclosure or just seized by the banks... He's probably right, in terms of straight numbers, but who CARES? Every street has a half-dozen places for sale, it seems. That's still a fuck-ton of a lot of houses...
-In the meantime, throughout all of that, there was a breakdown... This is the serious part- there won't be that many of these, but this one tried to kill me. I'm a long-term sufferer of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder brought on by years of abuse. Physical, social, mental and sexual.
Yes, people can be socially-abused- bullying, racism, sexism, and ostracism are forms of abuse that occur in the social realms, rather than at home. It's often the form of abuse we condone as a society, that we never question or fight. It's not any kind of an "official" category, of course, just one I made up.
I do that- make up terms to express what I need to get across.
Anyway, couple that up with bi-polar disorder that had never been treated (I'm a stubborn old lizard), and it added up to misery, suicidal thoughts, anger out of nowhere and a very confused and worried husband. We looked for answers- everything from my already-diagnosed ADHD (since I was 7 or 8), to the abuse, and chemical issues with my brain. I got therapy- still in, actually, and medication that seems to work... most of the time.
- I finally told the rest of my family, in public (on Face-Book- that's public, right?)- and on the weekend of his birthday, no less- what the Step-Monster had done to me for nearly five years... Reactions have been... mixed. My Mum's side of the family, except for one brother (who I'm considering disowning for being a dick about this whole event) seems to understand why I not only waited so long and why I did this at all. Some members of the SM's side of the family have yet to reply, but, from the current "standings", let's just say they either don't believe me, refuse to believe me, or DO believe me but think I should "move on", whatever the flying fuck that means.
Several have blocked me, one with a message of "Don't contact me again" (the brother I want to disown), another with no message at all (the SM's girlfriend- I'm sure he has her well-programmed to believe he's a 'great guy' and that I'm just some loser who wants to start trouble- yeah, that's exactly what I am, sure. I emerge from my cocoon of a personal hell maybe every twenty years or so, just to... irritate people? WTF?!), and one with a long-winded rant about "forgiveness", "moving on", "getting therapy" and so on, all while showing none of the "forgiveness" on her end that she was demanding of me, all the while utterly proving she's a fucking idiot by showing that she not only believes me, but that she thinks I shouldn't have to worry about what he may have done in the thirty years between his attacks on me and the day I pulled the "Big Reveal", all because he "gave me everything and worked so hard..."
Who fucking CARES what material shit he gave to me or my family? In what fucking sort of dream-world does she live in that rapists can be exempt from being revealed as the monsters they are just because he gave us money, a house or food? SHE sounds as if she thinks it's fucking OKAY to rape someone as long as they fed and housed their victims!? WHAT. THE. FUCK.
Someone is so utterly clueless. Beaten with a stupid-stick. Mind you, this is all coming from a woman who thinks she can talk to angels, get "assistance" from them for people and charges them for the "service". *head-desks, HARD* That... person has NO "moral" or ethical ground to stand on when she attempts to make a LIVING by fleecing gullible, stupid people... I want to fucking slap her. Doesn't surprise me that someone as shallow and self-centred as my middle brother married someone just as fucktardedly fucked up as himself.
She can just shut the fuck up. I find it also "hilarious" that she sends that vitriolic piece of shit to my inbox, then blocks me so I have no way to respond. Yeah, must have the last word, mustn't we? I wonder what arguments between her and my brother are like?
So, now I'm wondering what to do after all of this. There is SO much more that's gone on over the last four years that would be impossible to encapsulate into one post, but this year, I think, is the big one- the one where I've been facing my demons fully in the face for what is likely the first time.
Fuck. Thirty years... I still feel like I'm sixteen. Like the day I left home was fucking YESTERDAY. Part of me just cannot accept that I'm in my forties. I'm middle-aged. Half my life is DONE. I'm only just starting my career. Only just got married. Only just now looking for a house. All of the stuff I took for granted that everyone else would get to have... and not me. All of the impedimenta that "proves" one has had a "life". Part of me cannot accept that I DID have a life, it was just not what I hoped for. I got what I expected, though...
And, maybe that's part of the problem.
Moving on, like so many keep telling me to do (fuck you all, by the way)... Some cathartic things I'd found while re-starting/putting this blog together.
A site guaranteed to make me sick/full of rage/ so disappointed in the human race (not the writers, but the carbuncles they tally in their daily-sadly- cataloguing of the worst "parents" on this continent), but still one worth the read. Why? Because they refuse to be silent, allowing these pukes to hide, so they splash their fugly faeces, er faces, all over the web, so we can all recognize them, and maybe prevent them from breeding ever again or from coming in contact with ANY child. I give you: Bad Breeders, and yes, the name is VERY apropos: http://www.badbreeders.net/
One wonders how the ever living, flying FUCK any of those fuckwits were allowed to have kids. People like this are the reason I advocate breeding-licenses and parenting courses one must PASS before even considering having children.
Another site with very readable rants about abuse and why it should die a quick death is Evil Sits At The Dinner Table: https://www.ordinaryevil.wordpress.com/
She also collects and offers opinion-pieces on abuse-related current-events, and there is some bitter, sad, horribly-disappointed and angry commentary, both from the writers and their commentators.
Many of the writers in these two blogs have been through similar things that I have- many far worse and much more violent- so they KNOW where someone like me is coming from. Worth reading. Check them out. But, be warned- they swear, some of them, a lot. There is very little in our language vile enough to express the things they've had to experience, so they swear.
So do I, like a longshoreman. If you don't like it, that's fine- you're entitled to dislike anything you want- all I ask is that you don't complain at me because it won't change. If "expletive-deleted"s offend you, just don't read my writing. :-)
Abusers: if you want to get fucked, why not go fuck yourselves! It would really save the world a lot of trouble.
Next up: an old post, already in two places, but it couldn't hurt to have it here, either: "100 Questions I Want To Ask The Step-Monster Before He Dies".