Closure

Aug. 1st, 2013 11:15 pm[personal profile] atma
atma: ([TH] Youmu - Draw)
Last time I posted, I said it was going to be the last time I made one of those huge, rambling introspective posts about my life and who I am and how I got here and such.

I lied. You have one more.

I never explained how I got here. I don't know how many people have noticed this, but I tend to rarely if ever bring up my past. For years, I was embarrassed and hurt and ashamed of it and couldn't stop wishing I could have done more to stop what happened then or how much I was to blame, but then I grew up and no longer hold myself at fault. I'm pissed it all happened, but the shame is gone.

We're going to talk a lot about my childhood. And teen years. And early adult years. I'm going to be as honest and open about this as possible. And it's going to be long and uncomfortable, but nobody else in my life is going to give me closure on all this but me. Even if nobody else ever reads this, I finally got it out and can move on after this for good. I don't care who believes me or how much of it they believe, this is for me to write and vent with and hopefully to prevent the same happening to anyone else.

I don't even know what content or trigger warnings to give this. There's going to be talk of dysfunctional families, abuse, neglect, shitty school systems, drugs, crime, gender and sexuality bullshit, suicidal thoughts, prison, and all sorts of other shit. If any of that is going to upset you, don't read this and just know I'm okay now and will be okay from now on.

Otherwise, here we go.

Part 1 - Family and Home

My name is Amanda. I was born in the fall of 86 to a pair of stupid 21 year-olds who were forced to get married at least halfway through my mom's pregnancy in order for me to be legitimate, but as it stands, I'm pretty much a bastard child. I'm the first child of only two. I'm the unwanted one; I've known this most of my life. I'm the accident child and was reminded of such a lot. Mom had one abortion before she had me and attempted to induce abortion on me by using drugs. I made it out healthy; if miracles exist that is one.

I don't remember much until I was about 5 years old. There's a scant few memories of ages 2-4 thrown in, like the 1989 quake that interrupted the World Series since I lived close enough to feel the aftershocks. I remember my brother being born shortly before I was 3. He was born with his cord wrapped around his neck and almost died. As a result, his brain didn't get enough oxygen in utero. He's alive, but he's autistic and has a hard time coping with life still despite the fact he's about to turn 24. He was the wanted child. He was favored by my parents, especially my mom. I was reminded of that constantly as well.

My father went into the military shortly after I was born. It was his childhood dream and he served both in the national guard and the air force. He was gone a lot. I still remember huge swaths of weeks I wouldn't see him and still remember how he smelled coming home from training. So I was stuck with my mother a lot.

We lived in a mobile home park, the very back of it. A ghetto. It was where the local criminals, poors, destitutes, prostitutes, teen moms, drug dealers, shooters, child molesters, and general riff raff lived. At least one house burned down every few months due to neglect. One year in my teens, our abusive asshole animal abusing neighbors set their house on fire when they were making meth and passed out. I woke up to their house a barely standing hull and them evicted. A special-ed bus driver targeted kids in our neighborhood once and almost got my brother.

To put it lightly, the environment I grew up in was toxic and filthy.

We lived mostly supported on my grandmother's money since to this day she makes an absolute crapload doing computer programming. Dad couldn't find work after the military due to physical injuries no matter how much he tried. Mom, though?

My mother is a drug addicted, drunk, attention whoring, self-abusive, whining, lazy piece of shit. The last time I remember he having a job was almost 22 years ago. She's a hypochondriac and would make up shit just to get pain pills from doctors. Her body is so completely deteriorated now that she requires constant prescriptions, like 10+ of them, to function day to day. She has no teeth, self-induced diabetes, claims to have had a bout of black plague once, and would steal my allowance money to buy 40oz cans of shit cheap malt liquor she would combine with her pills. To this day she fakes medical issues and hospitalizes herself on or around major holidays or other peoples' birthdays in order to get attention. You learn to ignore it.

I often found mom drunk or wasted or passed out in the middle of trying to make me dinner. This started for me as early as around 7-10 years old. Or she would just pass out and never leave her bed for up to months at a time. I remember she spent a year bedridden claiming it was Lyme Disease. I don't know if I believe that anymore. She had a seizure induced by overdosing on who the fuck knows what at a party when I was in my teens and I saved her life and got her into an ambulance. To this day she's never thanked me for that. She's tried killing herself a few times, but we believe it was just more grabs for attention, as her wounds weren't lethal, just messy. I saw a blood written message on her mirror once during an attempt. I was 13ish.

On top of all of this, mom is verbally abusive. To everyone. But growing up it was me especially, as I was the mistake, remember? I would never amount to anything. I ought to just go get knocked up at age 16 and become a worthless dependent since it's all I'd be good at in her eyes. I'm why mommy and daddy argue and why the family is always angry. I'm probably Hitler. The world's woes would never have happened if I'd not existed. When I converted to Shinto, I was a disgusting heathen pagan. Any homosexual or tomboyish behavior I displayed earned me a visit from the shitty druggie babysitter who forced me to get a girly makeover and like it. I was forced to dye my hair in middle school by mom or I would be punished. Her abuse was entirely verbal and psychological and it took me for fucking ever to recover. She still makes remarks now and again to this degree but I just ignore her because fuck her, she's mom only for the fact she gave birth to me.

Mom also tried to control me with prescription drugs. I had a nervous breakdown in 7th grade over bullying and a doctor told me to go on Paxil (more on this later). I hadn't even started puberty yet. It and Trazodone were given to me, the Trazodone fucking me up and acting like an elephant tranquilizer to me. If I ever disagreed with mom or did something she didn't like, she would literally tackle me, pin me down, and force one in me so I'd just go to bed.

Mom is also a horrendously shitty cook to the point I barely ate growing up. I would eat bread and such when she wasn't looking to feel full. I was tiny and underweight constantly. If anyone wants to know why I value food so much now, this would be why. Fast food was gourmet for me then. We were poor without ever really being it.

Mom is about to turn 48. With her health and propensity towards self-abuse, I don't expect her to live to 50 or much past it. It sucks, but it is how it is. Her death will most likely be a relief to everyone. As far as I'm concerned, I don't have a mom as in a mother figure nor did I ever.

My father, nowadays, is a good person. But for a while he slipped into major depression when I was a teen due to lack of work and what I now know to be guilt over his own sexuality and gender identity, which he now has help with and I support him 120% on. He would get drunk and he and I would just fight. Fists, sticks, swearing, insults, death threats, we'd both wind up bruised and angry and sorry and frustrated. One time it was so bad, I asked to talk to a counselor at school and she saw some marks on my bruises from an incident and I was removed from school and my home and I lived in a group home for abused kids for a week before my family managed to bail me out. I don't think I would have survived or have been happy there had I had to live there permanently. This happened right around a Christmas too, fuck my luck.

My father's the only one in my family to apologize for our past and make it up to me. We're on extremely good terms now and him being honest about his guilt then is all too familiar. As far as I'm concerned he's a good guy.

My brother and I have had a rocky relationship. His autism makes it hard to deal with a lot of things and mom never getting him proper treatment and telling him things like college will kill him (something he still believes) have screwed up him up bad and stunted his progress horribly. And thanks to mom playing favorites too, I resented him a long time. Nowadays we're pretty okay and he lives with me as he appreciates the fact I treat him like an adult whereas mom won't ever recognize he is one and it frustrates him. I hope we can get him some counseling or disability money or something.

My grandmother was the only sane one I had as a kid, and would bail me out and take me with her on weekends and stuff to escape the toxic home environment. But even her kindness didn't last; I moved out with her to Arizona when I was 19 and I found out she's as toxic as the rest of us. She's mean, petty, vindictive, follows mom's pattern of using me as an easy target for fights, old, bootstrappy, believes depression doesn't exist, blames people who kill themselves for her misery, sexist, gross, a drunk, and physically abusive on rare occasions. I'm attempting to get out ASAP if only to get rid of her because fuck this.

Growing up where I did also helped me realize if I ever become a parent, I should adopt. Too many teem moms, some as young as 12, hooked on speed after they give birth. I swear I was the only one in that neighborhood who never got pregnant, had a kid, or had an abortion, or any combo of. Being gay helps, but still.

That neighborhood has since cleaned up somewhat but is still sort of a ghetto area. I'm just glad I escaped, but because of it and my family, I was never allowed to have a childhood. With everything I dealt with, I had to act like an adult as early as I could, just to cope and survive.

Part 2 - School and Paxil

School bored me at first. Around 3rd grade, my teachers noticed my lack of interest in everything, despite me doing well, and had me tested for the gifted education programs. To nobody's surprise, I was found to excel in languages and spelling and vocabulary and writing. I tested on those at the highest level they had possible. I was immediately transferred to a new school where my curriculum would match my intelligence. I immediately made some friends, including a few fellow nerdy types who played the same video games and such I did.

Things went mostly okay until 6th grade. My grades started slipping but only now because I know mom was intentionally sabotaging my reports. Anytime I needed to make something beyond the written portion, she would delay until the last possible day and use the cheapest material with me and put in minimal effort. For years I thought it was because I was dumb. No, just mom yet again making sure I remain a failure.

So 6th grade rolls around. My best friends and I since 4th start developing diverging interests. I start liking anime and noticing other women; I mean, I had before, I recognize a lot of points in my life I was gay from day 1, but this was a huge jump in it. My friends dumped me on basis of racism and would call me a Jap for liking Japanese things despite the fact I'm the whitest motherfucker to ever exist. I now suspect homophobia to be partially why they dropped me. But either way, I was friendless almost instantly one day and found myself subject of nasty rumors around the school.

Cue bullying.

People I don't know would come up from behind me and kick me down stairs or steal my shit or whatnot. One kid kicked me so hard my head cracked into the cement side of a garden planter. I blacked out for a bit and had to stay home a week to make sure I wasn't brain damaged. I was a vile evil serpent woman who probably poisons everything she touches, apparently.

It got to the point I was suspended for a week for bringing a pocket knife in. Yes, I was that fucking stupid, but no amount of detention or discipline caused these kids to back off of me and I was getting increasingly injured. It was only because they knew why I did it I got a suspension and not an expulsion. To this day, nobody in my family believes I did it in self-defense and they added a lot of extra punishments on me thoroughly, but whatever.

But then the worst happened. I remember it still as clear as day. In 7th grade, 30+ kids, all whom I didn't know, surrounded me in a hallway as I waited for homeroom and stole everything I had while keeping me up against the wall and threatening me and playing keepaway. I thought for sure I was going to die as they were getting ready to hit me. My math and science teachers came in then and immediately went oh fuck no and saved me, thankfully. I owe them still. This is when I had the nervous breakdown. I had to be homeschooled until 8th grade started and began taking the Paxil.

And because mom blamed me, I was removed from the gifted classes and put in special education. Me, of all people. Meanwhile, she made sure my brother integrated fully into normal classes (which should have been done anyways) but made sure I would never ever leave special ed again. I was insane and violent according to her.

On the plus side, I did start taking martial arts for a year here, but mom too ruined that by taking me out saying she feared for her life and that I would one day snap and kill her with it. Thanks a lot.

Special ed was its own brand of hell. I did not belong there. Thankfully, because I didn't, I mostly got to study on my own and teach myself and pick what I wanted to work on to make up for it. The teachers all took pity on me as I got to watch the kids that truly needed it try to work and function. I tried to integrate back into regular high school around 9th grade but that too was sabotaged despite the fact I was doing well. I was there until I dropped out on my 18th birthday. They had tried to make me repeat the 12th grade due to missing credits a teacher of mine got excused due to depression/missing school and was stuck with a very shitty controlling paranoid teacher so I said fuck it and left. I found out that many kids were unfairly held back that year in order to increase revenue to the school system since they make money every day a kid shows up; I was just a victim of bureaucracy.

The Paxil screwed me up. I probably have permanent damage from it. I was on it ten years, two of those were going/tapering off of it. I suffered severe SSRI Discontinuation Syndrome if I was off it even a day and I was on a fucking huge high dose all those years; 40mg every day. The Paxil made me a danger; I was constantly angry, starting fights, and extremely suicidal. I tried to kill myself once but found the pain nicked off my neck from a knife to be too much to endure. I suffered brain zaps and bad appetite issues and emotional damage I can feel lingering despite being off of it several years now, which is sadly not uncommon with this. I don't feel like I can trust any antidepressant for myself ever again.

Part 3 - The Dropout

My dropping out was timed well; dad got landed in jail after mom had him arrested on assault charges she made up and my grandmother was in San Francisco during the week to work so I had to make sure my brother got on and off his bus safely and help watch him and take care of him. Around this time, mom got drunk and wandered off and called us the next day saying she hitchhiked to Nevada and can someone please come pick her up? So my being able to stay home kept things together a bit. Then I moved out, and two years ago moved back to this area but thankfully separate from that household.

I got my GED at age 19. I never studied for it and passed my first time. I've never been to college nor do I think it would ever help me. I lived in Arizona with my grandmother's drunken bullshit for 5 years and felt unsafe in that state with how gay I was. I couldn't find work. I languished in stasis and NEET life for ages. I was depressed. I don't recommend it.

Before I moved to Arizona, I was arrested when my mom called the cops for taking the phone cord away when she was drunk. My grandmother had told me to do that so she wouldn't be able to do anything to me; so she hobbled to the neighbor's house and called the cops from there saying I had been assaulting her. Despite the fact my parents don't own that house, it was their word against mine, and I lost. I was violently cuffed and dragged to jail on misdemeanor assault charges. Grandmother bailed me that night and I had to attend anger management meetings, al-anon meetings (That group made me feel very uncomfortable to be honest), and pay $1000 in fines in order to avoid jailtime. I missed one appointment barely and had to completely re-do it; I was in the process of moving so they had me complete it in Arizona and mail them proof. I'm pretty sure it's been taken off my record but it's something I can never forgive happening, even if jail is an interesting place to observe.

Because of all this, I still to this day have next to zero genuine self-esteem and had a martyr complex for the longest time. I sought death and danger and risk like an idiot and turned to pills and booze to cope; once I realized I was turning into my mother by doing that I stopped by pure willpower and now have both my meds and my drinking severely moderated and am honestly happier and healthier with that. I just wanted to serve someone and be abused and used since it was all I was taught I was good at.

I'm just glad I learned to start living instead.

Part 4 - Sexuality and Gender Bullshit

Hey guys, I'm gay. Atma tell us something we don't know. Okay, how about the fact that because of how mom made me see my own worth as a woman (see the forcing me to dress up shit earlier) I did actually try to sleep with men in my teens and found it disgusting and painful and completely boring and unpleasurable or attractive? (No offense to any men, I just knwo for sure it would really not work out sexually or romantically for sure between us) But I tried. With several men. Because otherwise I'm gonna be a failure and disappoint everyone. I eventually found myself drifting from them every time and would wind up playing video games instead and looking at women. I couldn't deny it and the guy I was trying to date at the time I came out almost killed himself drinking Windex and phone harassed me and my grandmother for a solid night. Had to threaten legal action to get him to stop. We'd only known each other a few months too. Obsessive fuckwad tried to blame it on me.

I've still yet to actually sleep physically with another woman, but for a long time, I was a complete e-slut/whore. I wear the title proudly nowadays and still am one, but my outlook changed. I'd go into sex rp games and chats and just play with the women for nights on end. It made me feel good. It was only after I picked a certain one did I stop; because that one is now my long term girlfriend. She got me to accept what I was doing and my past and is the reason why I live instead of wanting to die now. She made me accept my sexuality and my fetishes and whom I was wholly. So it's okay I've not been with another woman physically yet; it'll happen someday. And until then that's why the gods invented right hands.

Similarly because of this and my mom trying to enforce roles on me, I had a hard time accepting my gender identity. I consider myself genderqueer/bigender. I feel a mixture of female and male and will go by any pronoun, but feel like male titles suit me best. I don't wanna transition fully, as I don't think it'd help, but I can crossdress and use toys to settle my dysphoria. If only medical science could just give me a decent dick I'd be happy.

I've known I was at least partly a boy since I was a kid, same with me knowing I was gay then but unaware of what it meant. I constantly spoke of how I was gonna get a sex change operation when I was 18 and would crossdress a lot and draw moustaches on myself and such to cope. I still get dysphoria now and again, but it's mostly controlled now that I've learned to start loving myself.

Part 5 - In The End

I've had a hell of a life. I'm sure there is stuff I'm forgetting, but this is the bulk of it. I've been used and abused and denied since before I was even born. I was forced to grow up all too early and have seen and been through things most people never would even dream of. I got mental scars that will still need time to heal. A lot of time.

But.

There is hope.

I got out of it. I'm slowly starting to build my life to be what I want it to be, so excuse me I'm only now getting a job and a driver's license when I'm almost 27. These people no longer have influence or control over me at all. Even if there were times I could only rely on myself and shut out all others, I made it. Even if I was ashamed to ask for help, I did, and am now thankful for what those who have helped have done for me.

It's hard to grow up, especially that young. For years, my face and eyes have constantly looked exhausted. I look tired and worn out on everyone's bullshit. But it's proof I've survived. I've spent the past 3 or so years questioning and re-examining myself and my morals.

And now you all know why I had to. Where it all comes from. Why the hell am I so fucking adamant to change things and help people? Because I went through Hell and was able to get out without becoming a complete bastard myself. I may be an asshole, but I care, and I'm going to use this to ensure even one other person's safety and happiness in my life.

So no matter who you are or what your circumstances were or are, there are ways out, and don't be ashamed of it taking a long time to come to fruition. We're all different and we all need time to work and think. I'm here for you, as are others. You're here for you, too.

And it's been worth every bit of happiness I've had since.

Someday I'll learn how to fully love myself. I still can't take gifts or compliments well. Somedays I hide online and go quiet and angry and bitter; I'm jaded as fuck at this and the world. But it's motivation.

Things change. People do. The world does. I did. And it's things like this that spur such change. I can and am a part of that now. I empathize and know the pain people have, because it's the same war we've all fought. My battlefield was never cluttered with bodies or swords, but with words and neglect. It's been a hell of a life, but I wouldn't trade who I am now for any of it; a being of compassion forged from the remnants of hate.

And with this, I forgive myself. I absolve myself of any responsibility; I never asked for this and I dealt with it the only way I could. I survived, I lived, and I live now.

I live now. And nobody is ever going to deny it again.

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The Sunset Samurai

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