Broken **Trigger Warnings**Abuse, Memories, Pain*

I was 2 when I was betrayed & broken by someone who should have protected me. My birth father.

He was drunk & high & on drugs when he took me & raped me.

I remember when I was 10, I used to have dreams about all the abuse of that day & they were so horribly vivid I thought there was something seriously wrong with me! There had to be for me to be twisted enough to dream such sickening things about a man I hadn’t seen since I was 4.

I was afraid to tell my Mom as her & I never really got along too well. I wanted to tell someone, but I couldn’t. So I turned to God & poured my heart out to Him & asked Him for help.

The next day, my Mom took my Little Brother & I to the library. He was 1 at the time, but she used to read to him a lot. I was a bookworm & read everything from Dr Seuss to Louis Sachar to William Shakespeare, Homer, & even Beowulf. The best part is I actually understand those & would even do book reports on them. So when I picked up a few psychology books, my Mom didn’t bat an eyelash. She knew I read alot of odd stuff & knew I could handle it. Its then I learned they were most likely repressed memories more than anything & that something must’ve happened to me to trigger me to remember. I didn’t know what it was, but I at least had a clue.

That summer, like almost all my summers, we went down to Southern California to visit my Mom’s side of the family. I knew my Uncles kept in touch with my birth Father, so I confronted them & told them I wanted to meet the man. They said I should talk to my Mom about it first, but I insisted & told them I’d do it myself if they didn’t help me. My Mom wasn’t too pleased about the idea, but after telling her I’d visit him myself if she couldn’t behave herself around him & let me meet him, she finally agreed & agreed to behave & go along. My Step-Dad (aka Dad) thought it was a great idea & didn’t mind in the least. He’s always been supportive of me.

Everything went great when I met my birth Father (I’ll call him R) & my Grandpa & his new wife. My Mom was friendly & everything & didn’t mind when I wanted to talk to R alone before we left. They all went out to the truck to wait while I stayed inside & talked to him. That’s when I confronted him about the dreams.

He confirmed they were memories by filling in the blanks I purposefully left & gave me more details about it all & each time after.

To say I was shocked is an understatement of epic proportions.

What he did next will stay in my mind for the rest of my life.

He said he had a gift for me & went to his room to get it. When he came out, he had a wooden box. After he set it on the table, he opened it & inside was a piece of paper, a pen, a gun, & ammo. He took the pen & paper & wrote a note on there excusing me of any actions. Then he loaded the gun, turned off the safety, handed it to me, knelt in front of me, & said “My life is in your hands mija” (that means ‘daughter’, btw).

To say I was shocked is an understatement of epic proportions.

Despite my shock of the situation, my mind quickly processed the situation & the clarification of my nightmarish dreams along with the confirmation of the abuse. In a single instant, I raised that gun & pointed it at him. My finger was on the trigger & I remember growling low (yes, I growl, weird, I know). And I was about to kill him. No emotion. No regret. Nothing. I just took a double handed stance as I didn’t know how the recoil was going to push back & didn’t want to land on my ass after splattering his brains out. I remember “R”* was the dominant personality at that time (in our terms, she was “out”, as in, she was in control). R has no fear. She doesn’t know how it feels to fear, to worry, to be scared or get scared. She knows cold hard facts. She knows situations & how to handle them. She knows no regret & will never regret anything she does. She gets things done & that’s just that. She sees no problem in this. To the rest of us (& those who have met her), she almost seems sociopathic in that she is cold to everything, but can play whatever part is needed with fluid grace & perfection. She was out…She was squeezing the trigger…She was going to kill him…She didn’t feel anything…We all had to tackle her to stop her & “Ia”* had to come out & take some semblance of control. R was pissed, to say the least.  That day we made a promise to him. Gun still pointed at his head. We’d check up on him as much as we can & the first thing we wanted to know was the answer to an unspoken question: “Have you hurt anyone else?”. If he said ‘No’, the conversation would go on as normal. If he said ‘yes’, we would find a way to get to him & we would put a bullet in his brain. He fully agreed & apologized adding “I know saying ‘sorry’ won’t right all the wrongs I’ve done to you, but I really am. I deserve that bullet, but I do thank you for this chance. I swear to you, right here & now, I haven’t nor will I touch another girl so long as I live”. With a nod, we surprised him by turning toward the table & unloading the gun. We couldn’t explain how we knew about weapons. In honesty, R told us what to do, even though she growled at our decision & has ever since….

(…More to come at a later date…)

*Ia = Our diplomat, most knowledgeable in grammar, spelling, etc. Caring & thoughtful, but smart, calculating to a point, & wise in handling situations. Isn’t afraid to be assertive. Can push a topic or point in a way to get people to open up & talk about things.

*R=Our toughest cookie. She knows no fear. No regret. No worry. She’s amazed teachers, professors, parents, figures of authority, etc. by how much she knows. She can pick up just about anything & fully understand & know it faster than anyone we’ve seen. She’s the one who gets things done if the rest of us can’t.


ANNOYED!!! **Trigger Warning** *Rant*Stress*

So totally annoyed right now! Ugh! My Fiance’s Sister yelled at us (actually yelled) because “our room is a mess & she can smell something gross from outside the room”. Here’s the problem with what she said. There was 1 dish (which was just used & had -breadcrumbs- on it, 3 soda cans (which were just finished before we left & put in a bag that we use for trash), & his dirty socks (which he’d taken off after work). There’s also a claim I do nothing around the house (mind you I’ve been sick & trying not to get everyone else sick & they were the ones who said it’d prolly be best if I just stayed in the room as not to get everyone else sick) as well as hurting like crazy (I don’t have all my meds) so I’m not able to do a whole awful lot (like pick up after them in the living room to help the Uncle who pretty much has to clean up everything & go through a bunch of the junk here). Not to mention, I work on SecondLife while she sits in the room she shares with her Mom & surfs the net, plays online games, & pretty much does nothing. She washes dishes from time to time if her Mom hasn’t already. They don’t like other people doing the dishes because they have a “certain way they prefer” to do them -_- Not only do they wash the dishes (with dishsoap I’m allergic to), but they also wash them in bleach to “disinfect them” (even though the dishsoap they get is a disinfectant), & then they put them through the dishwasher with the detergent (why, I don’t know)! And if anyone else washes a dish, they pull it out & re-wash it!!! No joke! So not only do I “not wash the dishes right”, but I also can’t use the dishsoap they have & they won’t get any other kind cause the Sister likes that one better (they get grapefruit, which I break out in a rash from). Seriously though?! She came into the room for no reason & started going through stuff. There is a small amount of litter on the ground from before we came & I’ve tried picking up as much as I can, but I need a vacuum to do it & no one will help me bring it in!!! I can only do so much!!! UGH!!! So freaking irritated!! Oh, did I mention I have to clean up after her damned cat on a regular basis?! Yeah, when it pukes in the hallway or the living room. Why? Dunno. They’ve been up when its happened & I’ve had to clean it up. Totally gross! Not to mention most of my clothes (I didn’t have alot as it is) are missing. Socks, underwear, shoes (no one in this house fits in my shoes, btw), pjs, shirts, my soccer shorts…yup. Gone. No one knows where they are. My camera cord is missing as well as my book light, my list of foods that are high in potassium that my Dr gave me. They also don’t buy food I can eat, so my Fiance has to get me some & usually make it (I had a bad accident in the kitchen & am banned from cooking till I’m out of the wheelchair & can do stuff for myself again). I clean up in the room all the time but apparently its not good enough. I hate messes & try to keep them to a minimum. And since he works all the time, he’s always tired & then they do the “Awe! You’re wearing yourself out! You poor thing! Its not fair that you have to care for her!” Yup. I’m a burden. Yay me -_- Someone just shoot me & put me out of my misery & everyone else’s.


Still Not A Fan Of Marijuana

Thanking the Lord I don’t live in Colorado or Washington now that they legalized recreational marijuana use! I’m sure there are those out there who see the good in it & have their reasons & Merry Christmas to them. But being one of the people who are allergic to the stuff, I’d like to keep it away from me as much as possible. I’ve become rather fond of breathing, silly me.

Yes, I’ve heard all the facts & the figures & the opinions & whatnots about the use of marijuana. I’ve heard all of the positives & helps & everything & just how ‘wonderful’ & helpful it can be.

But I’ve been on the negative side of it & I don’t mean a bad trip. I mean not being able to breathe because my lungs begin to close from it. I mean having to be sedated in hopes my body would relax enough for them to shove a tube into me so I could breathe again. I mean having to be rushed to the hospital because someone was inconsiderate enough to not only light up around me, but also blow it in my direction when I tried to avoid them. I’m sure there’s plenty of good out there, but when you’re suffocating because of something so simple that can be avoided, I’m sorry, but no. 

My heart goes out to those people out there who are also allergic to the stuff. The right to breathe has just become a lot harder for you, too, & probably worse for others of you. 

If you choose to smoke it or know of someone who does, please, I urge you. Be considerate. Urge them to be considerate as well.


Am I Really Horrible? *Trigger Warnings, Language*

Today has not been a good day for us in any way, shape, or form. Not only am I sicker than I have been (I get sick alot, unfortunately), but I’m missing Da Boyz more than ever before.

Da Boyz I speak of are our children. Ours & our ex’. We had to give them to my parents to take care of so we could get on our feet again & take care of them right. Then our health bombed & its just been one thing after another.

Right now, we’re in TN which (for those not knowledgeable of the States) is across the country from OR. Da Boyz are in OR. The reason we are so far away from them is due to financial troubles our amazing BF/Fiance ran into when the economy collapsed, jobs dropped, & we were in the hospital trying to get some of our health problems fixed (more on that another time). His family also had problems & needed help & since they were willing to take us in when we faced homelessness, we went. We didn’t think we’d be here long, but any time away from Da Boyz is too long for us. Yes, we have gone back to see Da Boyz as well as our Drs, but its just not the same & saying ‘its only bye for right now’ is alot harder than people give it credit.

Today we’ve been reminded not once, not twice, but five times just how horrible we are. We didn’t abandon our Babiez. They are ours & we are doing whatever we have to to get on our feet so we can get them back. We made the hardest decision & gave them a chance we didn’t have. We know they are Loved beyond belief. We know they are being cared for & their needs are being met. We know they Love us more than they have words for & we know we Love them more than life itself. But that doesn’t take away the pain of having to tuck them into bed at night, giving them all kisses, & letting them go so they can have a chance instead of losing them to a system with no guarantee of getting them back again. We ripped out our heart that night & left it there for them to hold onto & we made them a promise that we would be back.

And now we’re being told we’re horrible mothers for making that difficult decision. We’re being told we’re horrible. Adulterous whores because we don’t have the means to push a divorce after being -LEFT- by our ex for his -computer- (no joke there). Not worthy of the blessings we’ve been given since we “clearly don’t want them or we’d be willing to take care of them”. That’s an exact quote from one of the emails we got today. 

No one seems to understand that what we did we did for -THEM- in hopes & good faith that we would get them -Back-. People don’t seem to understand the situation we were facing & that we could’ve lost them for good. People also don’t seem to understand that all the shit someone is telling them (we know who it is & we’re not saying, sorry) is exactly that. Shit.

Are we really horrible? Are we horrible because we had to choose between losing them for good or giving them a chance & getting them back when we can? Are we horrible mothers because we chose our children’s future over our own present? Are we adulterous whores because we can’t afford a costly divorce, our ex left us with nothing, & someone else (a friend of ours) was not only willing to step in & pick up the pieces but give us the Love our ex never gave us? Are we really horrible for that?

Good Times, Fun Memories

So I’ve been talkin’ to my friends for over an hour or three & the convo has gone all over the place. I love these two so much. The dude (I’ll call him D) & the lady (I’ll call her L) have been two of my closest friends for years. We all came from hellish backgrounds & we all fought to rise above them.

D, L, & I (just call me M) love ta flirt. In fact, we’re hopeless romantics in the “How you doin’?” kinda way. Would we love love? Sure. Would we love a good fuck? Sure. Does it matter which, depends on the timing. Either way, we love what we’re good at & we’re all good at -That-!

Still, all the fun times & memories we shared has been so much fun to reminisce.