I find myself so frustrated lately, and I do promise that I will concentrate on lighter things shortly, having all these worries floating through my head right now like:
Is my younger brother really moving backwards in acceptance in my transition? Will my mother continue sabotaging me, trying to make it harder so that I give up? Is my older brother really healthy for my trans and gay friends to be around will he accept me? Will my sister cut me off from my neice and nephews? How far will my step fathers rage go? Did I really screw up my schooling beyond any hope to fix it? How many years before my student loans debt is gone? How much longer after that will I ever have credit? Will I be fifty before I can ever hope to get a mortgage for a home? Will I be in the closet at work for the rest of my life? Will I still hate myself when I start visibly changing more? Will I be ugly? Can I trust anyone to talk to... Its been so long since I've hung around with any lgbt friends, I miss the acceptance and the use of gay in any positive sense of the word. The transgender day of remembrance was painful this year, I am stuck hiding and quiet. I keep trying to get things that I have always wanted, that I used to want, because it fit in my minds picture of what my cozy dream home would hold. As if one could collect enough pieces to complete the puzzle and solve life. I find myself having a hard time seeing into a future anymore though, I go by old pictures and old lists, pretending that they are still there. All I see when I try to look to my future is a short strip of the road left. I think of all the obstacles and how I can ever live with one of them continuing negatively and it feels like It is just a matter of time before the road runs out.
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No lies, the weekend was wonderful, it has been a long time since I didn’t hate myself every single day and had to struggle with wanting a way out over dealing with so many evil fuckers. Today I had to take care of some particularly frustrating things that tend to piss me off. A big chunk would be the constant struggle for our Quiltbag (lgbt) campus group’s fight for our funding assured to us seven years ago. Months after starting the process of explaining every dollar of our budget and where it goes and in which order it will go to things, we are still being told to jump through more hoops in hopes of getting any funding. I am a peace loving hippy, but the rage and hatred they manage to get out of me is not easily abandoned. Never have I wished people to die violently as much as I have them. I spare no applause for the new variety of ways they seem find to rape us every year. We started so strong with some lgbt in the students union executive when our group was first created and it has just been downhill from there, soon we will have no support in any way from them. Already having events has been crushed this year, first our bar nights(only queer bar scene in the city) then any other on campus events, all our resources have been lost, and now any funding. We are finding no way to rebuild what we had in the very beginning seven years ago, at least with any support of our campus's students union(which is typically where our group on a campus would get funding).
Yup, so full of Rage that it’s not funny. No, seriously, I'm a Wiccan hippy. My murderous rage is not funny it feels like my soul is being tainted by this hatred. Beyond these last few years I had never wished ill upon anyone. One of these days you will die. Someone I love, and hate greatly. I will never shed tears for you. After all your violence and your hate I will fight showing relief when you die. It is not my fault for hating you so much, I fought this feeling through many years. I just cannot forget, and thus, can never forgive you. I prayed often when younger that the gods would show mercy on my mother and kill you. I prayed that she would find the strength to leave you. You are a person full of hate and violence. I know a great deal of that is the only thing that you know. I know your life was full of violence before your family came to be. I had years of memories, not all terrible. You were a father to me occasionally, between drinks. But I cannot forget. Thus, I can never forgive. When the day comes you die, I will fight the relief. The violence will end with you.
~A warning that this gets detailed and very violent from here on. This is where Connors, Whit and my birth father (though highly unlikely to ever read this) specifically need to stop reading if you ever get to this point, because I know these things will honestly make you physically ill. If my sister or brother(again quite unlikely) ever read this, it is up to you whether you want continue, I am sorry however if you ever do even get this far, this will put the pieces together for you as well and its hard understanding what was going on. I love you guys.~ If you wish to continue onto part II, the just click the Read more button right....below................Here......... One of these days you will die. Someone I love, and hate greatly. I will never shed tears for you. After all your violence and your hate I will fight showing relief when you die. It is not my fault for hating you so much, I fought this feeling through many years. I just cannot forget, and thus, can never forgive you. I prayed often when younger that the gods would show mercy on my mother and kill you. I prayed that she would find the strength to leave you. You are a person full of hate and violence. I know a great deal of that is the only thing that you know. I know your life was full of violence before your family came to be. I had years of memories, not all terrible. You were a father to me occasionally, between drinks. But I cannot forget. Thus, I can never forgive. When the day comes you die, I will fight the relief. The violence will end with you.
If I must not speak ill of the dead, then I will speak of the violence now and (hopefully) be done with it. How would I ever tell anyone then? To not worry about the tears and sorrow, that there is one less abuser in the world. How would I ever tell my sisters or brother, my nieces and nephews? They will all see me coldly not grieving. I will just lie and tell them I’ve lost too much over the years to shed any tears for the dead. When the abuse started my mother let her love of him and fears of my little brother losing his father hold her there. She somehow felt that a screaming alcoholic rapist was still a father. Even before the drink he would yell and scream at us every day. I was not use to it and it affected me most. My younger brother pretends that it never bugged him, but he grew up with hate in him and it twisted him for many years. He never learned how to treat people; it took him until he was nearly 17 to make a friend for himself. When our father wanted to yell at you, you cannot escape. If you feared him and tried to hide, we would kick down doors to scream at you. Worthless little fucks like us need to listen. Don’t look too far away from where he is but don’t make eye contact. Either will cause him to fly into a fit of rage. He would drink and fuck anything around. I believe that all of the kids caught him at least once. My sisters friends dangerously looked up to him, I still don’t know if he ever did one of them too. My mother wrecked his chances when she would catch him hanging out with them. ~A warning that this gets detailed and very violent from here on and so you know when I refer to my ‘father’ from here on in, it does not mean my birth father for my mother did not ever stay with him. It refers to the man that has had a deal of time in our family and was given right to be father figure. You cannot undo what you will read and know if you do read the rest of this blog post. Most of my friends I have resisted telling because I feel that once known that no one can look at him without hatred, that it makes my siblings look uncaring and ignorant, and because the hatred it can cause in a person could cause someone to seek out ending our fathers life. If someone did do that, it would be because they couldn’t stand to know such a person would be allowed to live, and because of such, I wouldn’t want them to go to jail for it. This is where Connors, Whit and my birth father (though highly unlikely to ever read this) specifically need to stop reading if you ever get to this point, because I know these things will honestly make you physically ill. If my sister or brother(again quite unlikely) ever read this, it is up to you whether you want continue, I am sorry however if you ever do even get this far, this will put the pieces together for you as well and its hard understanding what was going on. I love you guys. To help with curiosity, In a nutshell, my ‘father’ is a very bad person and my mother has taken the brunt of it.~ If you wish to continue, the just click the Read more button right.............below.........................Here......... So I hear that this whole rape thing is a problem. So I decided to look online to see if I could find some advice, some preventative information, that would help out. I found some persons interesting list of Tips to help end Rape. I hope you find it useful.
Ten rape prevention tips: 1. Don’t put drugs in women’s drinks. 2. When you see a woman walking by herself, leave her alone. 3. If you pull over to help a woman whose car has broken down, remember not to rape her. 4. If you are in an elevator and a woman gets in, don’t rape her. 5. When you encounter a woman who is asleep, the safest course of action is to not rape her. 6. Never creep into a woman’s home through an unlocked door or window, or spring out at her from between parked cars, or rape her. 7. Remember, people go to the laundry room to do their laundry. Do not attempt to molest someone who is alone in a laundry room. 8. Use the Buddy System! If it is inconvenient for you to stop yourself from raping women, ask a trusted friend to accompany you at all times. 9. Carry a rape whistle. If you find that you are about to rape someone, blow the whistle until someone comes to stop you. 10. Don’t forget: Honesty is the best policy. When asking a woman out on a date, don’t pretend that you are interested in her as a person; tell her straight up that you expect to be raping her later. If you don’t communicate your intentions, the woman may take it as a sign that you do not plan to rape her. (Rape prevention tips Posted by Leigh Hofheimer) Key part: When in doubt, DON'T rape. We know we are in a sick world when we would rather blame the victim and ignore it. Rapists end up going free and it is shrugged off as a lesson in life. What is the lesson exactly though? That it is only a matter of time? I wish my mom, my nana, my neice, my sisters, my friends could be safe. I wish that every rape was treated seriously. That way maybe it wouldn't be just a matter of time for them. This list reminds me that I am not going insane, the world has screwed up views that need to change. No one asks to be raped, from those who have experienced it, living after such an experience is often described as a fate far worse than death. Like your very soul has been violated and abused, leaving a sick filth left that you cant seem to remove. I figure that this may just cause people to start any sort of debate on societies views of sexuality and gender, but I am always up for that fight. Online that is, in person I may get sick of it and potentially push you into traffic while you tell me that anyone was asking for it. Cause you would be asking for it. I have seen the pain, and felt a great deal of it myself, when many fantastic women and men I know have tried to deal with being victims of such violence. I was looking at some 'slutwalk' photos and saw a sign that remind me of a few friends fears. I can relate, by 12yrs I was very aware of rape and molestation and it saved me quite a few times. I was lucky that I managed to say all the right things and they took the bluff and left, but it was never guaranteed that it would work with the next one. It failed to work for one of my best friends and they were attacked repeatedly, while others looked the other way, because they didn't want to listen. They didn't stop, they kept adding victims, and I just kept praying for their death. Praying for a gun and meeting them in a dark alley. At 12, I could only see the darkest parts of the world and was disgusted by people, my world was only black and grey. I was outraged that people would know what these people where and did nothing, people with far more power than me to do something about it. I was outraged that my parents would allow them to keep going on in life and not be locked away to keep them from attacking again. For the ones I faced I just got to be more disturbed and hid more. That doesn't seem right. Anyway, here is the signs message: "I'm scared to ride the bus. I'm scared by myself. I'm scared at night. I hate men. I think they are violent and out to get me. I'm scared to walk alone. I'm scared to dress nice. I'm scared of being in relationships. I hate to be touched by men. I cry when I feel threatened. The biggest fear I have is to be raped. I feel like I can't trust anyone of the male gender. I am paranoid! I am the product of a domestically violent father and the culture that excused him." Don't think that just because society likes to sweep it under the rug that it ever fixes anything. No one, no matter the genders involved should be allowed to do these things to another person, no excuses should ever be made. You play as the trashy looking Jimmy Hopkins who is being dumped off at Bullworth Academy so that his newly remarried mother can go on a honeymoon cruise and not have to deal with a miserable kid like you who keeps getting kicked out of schools. I honestly couldn’t stop laughing as soon as I put this game in; the audio is pretty hilariously and mean. You hear nasty comments and insults constantly throughout the game since you are tossed in the middle of the nastiest school around and after a short while it seems to be that it is more like their inner dialogue reaching you as you hear their strange quirks and secrets. It tended to shock anyone around to hear the characters running around threatening and beating up the other characters or even the quick “I’m so good at kissing, I always practice on my arm!” or “Can’t let anyone know I still do that!”. It shouldn’t have surprised me since it comes from Rockstar, the developers/publishers of Grand Theft Auto, so no surprise that you also heal through playing tonsil hockey.
So I originally picked up this game because I heard it had the great feature of you being able to kiss a jock (whom then begs you to never tell anyone) and seeing it on sale for under $5(^-^), I grabbed it for a good laugh. Jimmy, the main character is dumb, easy to manipulate, and doesn’t have much of a neck (odd looking at times) but he does grow on you. After going through some storyline I looked up info on kissing guys in the game and found that luckily you can kiss 6 of them: Trent, Gord, Vance, Kirby, Duncan, and Cornelius. This would be one character of each of the games cliques: Bullies, Preps, Greasers, Jocks, Townies, and Geeks. First off, you need to pass your first art class so that you can unlock the option of trying to kiss anyone. Yeah, I know, but I guess staring at pictures of Miss Phillips (art teacher), awakens something inside you. Unfortunately after that, you still have to finish chapter 1 to kiss anyone beyond Cornelius, which includes kissing some questionable girls(story mode) to unlock some love from the bullies. Once done, you can unlock the ability to give Trent flowers, so that you can interrupt his beating up geeks for a good make out session. The kissing scene full of moans, groans and maybe some ass grabbing, it is typical for other characters walk by, usually staring hard. As more people like you, characters might be openly adoring/envious of you and your make out partner while you exchange saliva. :p I personally wouldn’t give into making out with Cornelius, who looks like Steve Urkel, and saved myself for the angry Trent, since I just couldn’t wait for Gord. As chapters go by you will gain the love of other cliques on campus (and later loose some) and thus be able to snog a new boy. Generally you can skip out on kissing girls except through the story mode and just keep your favorite ‘boyfriend(s)’. Trent after Chapter 1 is yours and during times when you fall out of favor with other groups you can always go back to his loving/bullying arms. No shame in Trent he is probably the most open Bi boy in the game. Trent the Bully - Unlocked after Chapter I - White shirt, blonde hair “Wanna play shirts and skins?” Outside the school beating people up Gord the Prep -Unlocked after Chapter II - Prep shirt, small guy, scarf Talks about clothes and the poor. Outside Prep house or in town in Old Bull Vale, or the carnival Vance the Greaser - Unlocked after Chapter III - Leather jacket, small guy, red hair “Whats buzzin’ Cousin” Autoshop area or in town in Kirby the Jock - Unlocked after Chapter IV - Blue or grey shirt, brown hair Complains and has a huge ego. Gym area or in the football field Duncan the Townie - Unlocked late or after Chapter V - White shirt with orange circle, blonde Likes Grottos and Gremlins(D&D), may flirt with you. In the industrial part of town Cornelius the Geek - Almost always available - Green shirt, tall, black, glasses Talks about math lots. Library or outside school probably being beat up by Trent If you end up going to town, all characters will be spread out in particular parts of town, easy to grab for a quick kiss before you start a mission to boost your stats and health. Fantastically there is the achievement ‘Over the Rainbow’ which you get from kissing ‘gents’ a good 20 times. I did find it interesting that after favoring Gord for a while that Trent and Gord fought frequently. If you kiss a girl then go kiss a guy, if the girl is nearby she might kick him in the groin. I’m unsure if that’s why the guys where fighting or if it was just cause Trent likes to beat up everyone and if any prep is involved in fighting it is likely Gord. At times when respect is rocky you might want to rely on the percentages of respect from the different cliques to figure out who you can make out with. I love how this game has a wide open world that you can travel in and that there are not too many errands (tiny quests) or constant storyline. Once you know your way around the area and how the prefects work the game is pretty fun since everything is up to you. There isn’t much you want to do with different clothes but since money is easy to come by you might as well get an interesting outfit or spend half of the game in a ridiculous costume(though good luck kissing anyone). Overall it was a fun game, though I bought it and played it through strictly because I craved a game with some queerity to it. I can see why people feel it is a classic, it was funny and everyone is a jerk. Except Trent, after you kiss him he pretty much loves you saying things like “This is just like some romance movie”… (Then maybe saves his rep by)… “Uhhhh, I’m such a player” lol. Sure you are Trent, sure you are. Man.
Be proud you are the privileged who don’t have to worry about the problems that a woman faces. What do you think about what a boy goes through as he is raised? Boys. You live under the threat of being the sissy, pussy or wimp. You cant play with dolls, you cant like purple or pink. Upon mention, ensure that your disgust is believable. You cannot pretend to be or idolize a female character without being told you cant or receiving laughter even from the adults around. You must grow up fast, shake off the fall, ignore the scrapes and bruises, cant be hugged too much or you will grow up weak. You must not complain. You grin and bear it. Hope you grow up tall, too short and you will never find someone to date. Too thin and you will be considered a dork. Avoid your mothers and keep your distance or be branded a mommas boy and teased. Cant cry. Hair too long and your masculinity will be stripped from you as guys smirk and call you miss. Cant talk too much and share what’s on your mind for fear of being told how you are such a girl. Don’t ever let a girl stick up for you. Waiver and you get beat up. Suck it up. Pathetic, you cant even take a punch. Your life will be a fight to maintain enough masculinity for your parents to not give you a hard time. All you need now is to hear the worry in their voice as they start getting involved. All you need is for them to give you advice. You are pathetic. Too many fuck ups make you a girl or fag. If you cant party then you are lame, must be able to hold your alcohol, must keep drinking, hopefully you wont pass out and they draw dicks on your face with permanent marker. Hope an acceptable girl takes a fancy to you in high school so that you wont be called a cocksucker. Pray all class the teacher doesn’t ask you to come up and solve the equation. Hope no one realizes why you stayed in the classroom late. Hope no one noticed your boner. Hope no one realizes what and who you were thinking when you got it. Crap! This doesn’t happen to guys who get laid. You cant just be friends with a girl, you have to see them as an object, what are you? Gay!? Hope that you are not smaller than the guys in your class, hope your pubes have filled out as much as everyone else’s. Talk the talk walk the walk. Quickly loose the V-card before every loser in your class does before you. Don’t slip up. Don’t fuck up. The guys say its easy to please a girl, to make them moan, they are really hoes under it all. They bow to the cock. Don’t screw up. Cant you get it up? Not too soon……… not too late. Are you done yet? You are so awkward are you sure you have ever been with a girl those other times? Not yet! Think of trees, flowers, don’t be a minute man again she will think you are always like this. Now is where it gets easy, here is your life plan, high school-date girls, finish school, sleep around and figure out this sex thing, job, wife, house, kid, dog…got it? Its easy. “How come all the Cool Chicks are Lesbians”
“Leessbeeannn. Lesbean. All the cool chicks are Lesbians,” My little niece read. I was going through some boxes of jewellery when I heard her reading it out. She can read quite well and takes pride in the ability. She was holding onto a little rainbow pin that I first got from Ian after I came out as a bi at university. I looked down at it and smiled. She looked down at it and smiled too, admiring my handful of pins that I had stored in with my jewellery. “That’s one of my favourite pins, I didn’t make that one, it was a gift from my friend” I told her. “That can go with the rest of my jewellery that I’m taking home.” She smiled down at the little rainbow pin and read it again and again. “How come all the cool chicks are Lesbians!” She looked up at me smiling happily. We continued to look through boxes as I got my stuff organized. The phrase stayed with her as she played through some of my select things. She held onto it for hours, every once in a while, rereading it out loud. Eventually, as I was packing up things, she decided to run it upstairs and tell grandpa about the pin she snitched from me. She came back down the stairs and came up to me with her hands on her hips. “Its not allowed, papa said it was inappropriate.” She said matter-of-factly. I just rolled my eyes. Anything along an lgbt topic and he would tell me to shut it. The kids started a new game of tossing back and forth the new word. “How come all grandmas are lesbians!” “All the hotdogs are lesbians too!” “How come men are all lesbians!” the giggled as they went back and forth. My nephew stopping for a second in mock horror at the last phrase before breaking down into giggles for the next five minutes. Then as they were calming down she finally asked me, “What is a lesbian?” “Its not a bad word, papa was being a goof, lesbian is just a type of girl, or what a girl can be, like girls can be tomboys.” I said. “Oh.” She said, confused by my dull answer, and ran off to play with her brother. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Hours later after spending the day hanging out with the kids they headed home. Given the chance to think I thought out loud :“Crap, she held onto that pin for hours, I never got it back, the little thief must have taken it.” I laughed a bit. “Oh, no, he threw it out.” was the reply from my mom in the living room. “What!?” I said, standing there a little stupefied. “He threw it out,” my mom repeated. “Of course I did,” he said, “That’s completely inappropriate to give a kid.” I was still a bit stunned and grasping for words. “She took it from me obviously, she liked it, I didn’t give it to her.” I said as I hurried into the kitchen and pulled out the trash. Having to dig through it I felt humiliated. The pin was surrounded by grime and grease. Thrown away and discarded. “Ian gave it to me years ago.” I felt the heat and frustration rise to my face. “What the hell dad! Seriously, throwing something of mine out like that. And why is it inappropriate? Why would you say that to them? Like it’s a bad word? Something that we aren’t allowed to say? Something dirty? Why would you teach them that? That’s what they did you know. After you reacted like that, they came downstairs and tossed it around like it was a new swear word. Don’t you understand what you are doing?.” I could tell he was fed up and going to stand by it. I felt tears start to run down my cheeks. “Fuck Christmas. Fuck Family. I cant stand this.” I left the room, grabbed my stuff and left. I managed to be okay in the car ride home with my brother but the moment I got to my door I was in tears again. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ In the last couple months my mothers been amazing. She finds out about some of the bad policies or issues that lgbt people have to deal with and are fighting right now and tells them to me, asking if I heard the latest news on it. My brother amazes me every time with an understanding and acceptance that really fills me with happiness. Sometimes my mother says something and my bro rolls his eyes at her and tells her how its stupid because of such and such and tells her how it is. She listens to him, they talk about it and she gets told by him about how she has some silly stereotypes. She laughs it out and I just listen with honour that my little brother is telling her how she believes too much TV. Though there are stereotypes, all it seems to take is some talking about it to fix things and they have both realized so much on their own it really helps me feel at home. I have been involved in the LGBT collective on campus for 5 years. I am one of the most out people in Brandon and proud to be. I have been working my ass off trying to help people and create a good space and comfortable friends to help people come out and deal with everything that comes with it. I have helped numerous people come out, and shared a lot of tears and shared a lot of happiness they felt about the reactions of their friends and loved ones. I’ve been told numerous painful stories and joyful ones, the painful ones always stick with me. Dreams of being a teacher crushed as they watched their schools parents petition to remove a gay teacher from their school until he finally couldn’t take the harassment anymore and quit. Loosing your best friends to coming out cause they cant deal with what other people might think. Another girls parent finding out that her daughter is dating this ‘lesbian’ girl from school and getting the teachers and principal on board for a rule of ‘the lesbian’ not being able to come within three feet of any other girl throughout high school. Enforced by everyone. Being told by your mother that you are disgusting. Hearing your brother talk about how he bashed another fags face in today and being afraid that one day he will find out about you too. I went through years of harassment. Years of bullying, of teasing. I was the fucking dyke. The stupid butch. The beast. Even my friends would hurt and tease me. I would walk home without fear, despite the things people would say to me. They would tell me they would teach me all sorts of things how it was suppose to be, to teach me how to like cock, telling me how they were going to cut me, how they were going to slice me open, telling me how they were going to fuck me up. They pulled out a knife, and I told them how it was a good thing they brought one cause it gave them a better chance to win the fight. I was filled with frustration, it fuelled me. I felt so caged, so backed in a corner and threatened that I could lash out with words of my own. Bless my stupidity, because intimidation saved me. No one stabbed me, no one beat me, they feared that a knife wouldn’t stop me from hitting them right back. They feared my spirit would hold up. Years of girls putting my clothes in the garbage’s during gym. Of taking my binders and pencils and throwing them in the cafeteria garbage. Of Fucking Butch or Stupid Dyke being scrawled on everything I owned the minute I left to go to the bathroom. Of pop being poured in my hair. Of being shoved around in the hallways. All the rocks. All the spit balls. All the snowballs. All the ice. I spent my high school life as trash. “How come all the cool chicks are lesbians” In a sea of hate. Disgust. Of being the punch line of every joke. What does the word butch or dyke feel like to you? This one time its positive. This one time there’s a shred of acceptance. There’s flattery. Pride is such a relief, such a happy time to reclaim ourselves. You say its biased? You say its telling girls that its only cool to be lesbians? In what world? Our world surrounds marriage, something a huge percentage of people feel is wrong between women. The media and world surrounds straight people dating and meeting the perfect man. Straight people having families. Which parent bothers to say the positive things about LGBT people or their struggles when explaining anything to their kids. How much hate is out there. How much teasing? How many derogative things to call us. So why, in this world full of negativity is this a threat? One shining gem of acceptance through all the painful years. We all hear the shit being said. We hear people calling each other fucking faggots, butches, cock suckers, carpet munchers, fudge packers, fairies, or a fucking queer. Its something said to straight people to tease them, to taunt them, saying they are the creeps of society. Just like us. People stay silent, they wont talk, so we get to live in a world dominated by the only people speaking being the ones who hate us so much that they cant shut up about it. That’s why I couldn’t hold back in the end, that’s what caused me to say something. Everytime you tell me that I have to find different friends. Cause mine are not normal, cause mine are all queers(by the way, they aren’t, it was never a requirement). Everytime you tell me that that is the end of discussion cause I mentioned that I liked girls. All those times you cut me off from talking, the times you turned up the music to train me that the minute I mention something LGBT that you wont listen. Everytime you told me to shut up about it and any issues I had to deal with involving work or discrimination. Its who I am. Its who I date. It’s the discrimination I face and fight. Its my job. Its my thesis. Its my friends. I would rather say nothing than have to censor my entire life. This that you are putting me through, weighs down on me. Everytime you do it. My depression still got bad, so bad that in grade 11 I finally told my parents that I couldn’t control it anymore. I ended up having to go on meds. They worked but I just couldn’t keep taking them consistently. I kept being told it was a weakness to take them and that it was pathetic so in the end they stopped working because I was off and on them for too long.
Finally just after I turned 17, an opportunity to move out of the house was before me. I was starting my final year of school and working about 30 hours getting paid under minimum wage and I could barely scrape by if I moved out but I could, potentially. It turned into an internal fight(and often external) for my mother not wanting her child out so young, and wanting to get me out so that life was easier, since my step father and I fought constantly. In the end I declared that I didn’t want to leave until I was done high school, and was told from my step father since this was a choice, that things were going to change around the house now. The look on his face was full of glee, he started listing off the ‘new and improved rules’. This threat was the last straw, so I left. Money was tight, I had off and on roommates, most of which never paid rent. I spent most of those first few months pretty messed up. I was the one with a place to drink at. The minute my shift was over, it was a minute walk to smoking and drinking up a storm. I only had one rule, you can smoke it or drink it at my place as long as you offered to share with me. After a while a guy friend of ours started coming around, I got pressured by my friends into dating and eventually, loosing my virginity to him. He was verbally and emotionally abusive, and incredibly violent. In a flash of movement he went from handling something on the floor, leaned over, to smashing things against the wall inches from my face, me flinching as the debris hit me. He was full of drama and would scream at me constantly till I was crying in a corner of the room. When he was raging he didnt care about pain, if he was bleeding it just meant he was allowed to scream at me louder. I found out that one of my close friends, Beck was screwing him and I knew they could have told me before I had given up my virginity to him. I had told my friends weeks before that I was finally going to appease them and loose it. Beck declared it to me in the restaurant in front of other customers a few days after I was virginity free. There was so much happiness written all over their face, this was the way Beck defeated her friends. So shortly after while rumors were flying, I broke my hand punching a wall instead of Beck's face, and dropped out of high school. I broke up with the asshole I had been dating and his good friend started treatening to call the cops when he would come over to find him screaming at me and trashing the place while I just tried to stay out of the way. The asshole finally left but not before ripping me off, complaining to the landlord and smashing up my place and its contents. He screamed at me that he would tap out all of his resources and connections to ensure that I was tortured well before I would be allowed to die, and to expect it soon. There was so much bullying going on that I started lashing right back at them. A girl would pour her pop in my hair facing me while she did it, and I would immediately get up and kick her ass. First hit was hard enough that she already flew onto the ground. I got suspended every which way you could, inside or outside school suspensions, half days to five days. I even managed to get suspended for looking at another girl in my class wrong, apparently it was a hateful look I gave her.
After a while I had to write up reasons why the school should let me back in every time. I started making friends with the trouble of the school. The after school walk home was filled with groups of people threatening and itching to ‘cut me open’ and ‘curb stomp’ me. I stayed honest about what I did do and what I didn’t do, but my parents stopped believing me and my lunch hour was filled with being forced to talk to the counsellor, where she kept repeatedly asking me why I felt the need to lie about things. The principal tore my mini Wiccan altar(feathers, a small smooth rock, an incense stick and an unlit tealight) from my locker and I wasn’t allowed to bring my pentacle to school. Late in grade ten I finally found out that a friend could be someone who wasn’t insecure about being your friend. Someone who didn’t talk behind your back but defended you wholeheartedly. Someone who didn’t get upset if people were talking about how ‘close’ you seemed to be. It was also a time when a threat to my friends to leave them because I caught them bullying someone was a legitimate concern that caused them to immediately go and apologize and end the bullying permanently. I actually had some sort of value. Something that I wasn’t used to since I was a pretty lame person and always was the bottom of peoples lists of who they would want to hang out with. This managed to last for a while. I had learned to stand up for myself to my step father after there was too much differences between how my sister was treated and I was and it finally got to me. I was still used to clothes handed down from my mother, and cheap $5 flat shoes from walmart as my gym and everything else shoes while my sister always had an all new wardrobe($50 pants) and Nikes. I fought hard for my first $20 non flat bottomed runners from walmart, my stepfather and I screamed at each other, and my mother was forced to get in and do something. I also got grounded often for a week or two with no contact with the outside world other than school, when my sister got grounded for a day, from simply leaving the house. The differences were obvious. |
Kris
I am a Bi+Trans geeky student who is all about Gaming, Music, Drawing, Writing, Anime, Comic books, and Web comics. Categories
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April 2016
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