Hey Peeps!
The rules say to state what emotions being felt...Do I even know what to feel at this point? Well maybe confused, abandoned, invisible, unheard, both powerful and disempowered at the same time...I could go on but I think this paints an adequate picture as it is. My life has been confusing since the beginning hard to comprehend. When you live in survival mode ignoring everything around, it catches up once you try to analyze strengths, weaknesses, what could I have done better. I guess now is a good time to write about these strange things since a whole 3 people is likely to even read this. Time to let the skeletons all fall out.
Image previously posted under my ladybug146 account.
Obviously I started opening up in someway to the abuse I went thru but not really in the same sense. I don't think anyone can really wrap their heads around it especially in North-America where the illusion of equality exist as a male chosen narratives. Maybe some women get to experience it, not this one. Feels more like clawing at walls in an unjust world that doesn't want me in it and will go to great lengths to squash me for no reason. Most injustice done towards me, I tried to scream it from the rooftops just to be brushed off, denied, judgments on things that are absurd or misunderstood, gossip being spread so the transgressors can keep behaving in an entitled deceitful way...and they win. Every time.
Women get judged unfairly a lot of the time, well at least I do. Besides the daily poisonings and such mentioned in my last post, I'll elaborate a bit more. It might be a trigger warning on some things, admitting to some things that I might be a bit disgusted about but at the same time did I have a choice? My entire life I felt taken advantage of or let down by men in one way or an other, in a society that thinks is operating on equal opportunity (only if you ask the man) I'm not trying to gender trash by any means, these are just the facts and make up the pieces that is me.
Outside of my mom's daily abuse, my bio dad aka sperm donor walked away when I was a baby with no financial support to me or my mother, chasing riches was more important than taking ownership of his actions. Just casual sex so there is nothing to be responsible for I guess. Hard for me to get details since my parentage was always a secret and me asking about it just got me beat more so I kept quiet.
She eventually go married. Was it out of love or was it because she was stuck with me and didn't know what else to do? He didn't treat her or their children the same. Just me for some reason. My step dad had a major temper problem. Would come home from work, grab me by the throat, slam me on the wall and punch holes in the wall next to my head. He certainly became an expert at patching walls! Surprising that house even had walls left. Sometimes he would throw stuff at me while he kicked the dog. He used to get me in a chokehold until I was purple in the face kicking him where ever I could to free myself, while my mom watched, my uncle and his bff or whatever other friends was present, my grand-parents...so on. Day in and day out.
For some reason, everyone thought it was normal and did nothing. What had I done? Nothing really. It was a combination of lies told by my narcisistic mother with a vendetta against me and because he had a bad day at work and felt like it. I remember it as far back as when I was 7, maybe it started sooner I don't know. Maybe that's when I was in school, had friends and could compare parents, sensed that something was off. I was terrified of home, wishing I could die already because I didn't want to experience it anymore. What choice did I have, everyone I tried to tell silenced me or found a way to make me look bad like some nightmare.
My last conversation with him in my early 20's was him reminiscing on how funny it was how feisty I was and that I had a lot of fire in my soul and he had faith in me to be able to fend for myself. Then he asked if the reason communications had slowed was because I was being abused and isolated by my boyfriend. What do you mean it's morally wrong for an man to beat his partner but ok for a man to beat a girl child? Is there even a difference? Aren't they both wrong?
To continue on, I would go to sleep every night with my head tucked tight under the covers hoping to suffocate before morning, I would hide in the ditch jump into the road at the last minute as cars drove by around the corner hoping to get hit by a car because my bff died that way when I was 5. It worked for her unintentionally...why wasn't it working for me? Silver lining in all of this, it happened 3 days before my 5th birthday so my parents threw me a birthday party to band-aid the situation. In my almost 40 year existence, the only time I have ever been celebrated.
When everyone was asleep, I would go sit in the kitchen by the sharp knife drawer with the biggest, pointiest knife in my hand wondering where and what am I supposed to cut to end it? I know some of these methods sound strange but I was just a kid and not that smart about life and how to end it. Probably not knowledge on is supposed to really have at that age. It made sense in my head at the time.
I had a psychologist but my parents kept lying to them about the conditions at home leaving them scratching their heads as to why they were looking at a sucidal 7 yr old and how to treat it. Is it even ethical to put someone that age on Prozac? She tried to tell everyone I was under psychosis, I probably was but it wasn't a natural chemical imbalance, they were the cause. I was always under stress, everyday. Nothing I did was right, even if I did nothing wrong, they would invent something, whatever excuse to justify their behavior allowing them to sleep at night.
Every time I would try to tell on them, I was already painted as a liar to everyone by my mother so nobody would believe me and her abuse would be overlooked or she would switch psychologist if they started to suspect her. I just learned to be quiet, be silent. It was easier, less repercussions that way. Without a voice. Being continuously doubted in the way that I was became pretty frustrating and insulting. I became angry and held all of that in, their dirty little secrets. Nevermind a closet of skeletons, the whole house was filled with them. Yet their two other children never even experienced a hint of abuse and neglect. They were well cared for, making it even harder to be heard.
The weirdest part for me to this day, my happiest memory is when I was locked day in and day out in an unfinished basement and barely fed by my foster parents.(except for school hours or when I visited friends). Why? I don't think I ever cared, felt like a vacation. Nobody was beating me and I was left alone. There was a laundry sink to pee in if I needed to. The most normal thing I had ever experienced at my then age of 10 or so, maybe 11. I had all I thought needed I guess. It did give me a chance to unwind. To only have bullies at school rather than everywhere was less bad, at least those ones were my size, a lot less scary I suppose, I can successfully hit them back and make a dent for my own honor. The funny part, so many of these same kids are still pissed at me for hurting them and beating them up. For real tho. haha. The only story that ever existed is that I beat them up never what they did to get themselves beat up since I appeared unharmed.
Now of course that would get me consistently suspended from school as a trouble maker. When I returned to my abusive parents at around 13 or 14, well that became more of a problem when my parents would have to drive 40 minutes to meet the principal. I had a douche bag teacher that was a Narcisitic pedophile, inappropriately touching me in front of the class, especially when I was entering the class. Trying to make me look like a bad student and embarrass me in front of the class if I dared say something snarky about it, making me sit at a desk in front, facing everyone, facing his desk with a drawer full of pornographic magazines that he would take out and hide under his paper work to show me and give me the sex eyes while pretending to the class that I had been bad and needed to be disciplined.
Everyone would point and laugh at me, cracking jokes, like I had actually done something wrong. Bullied by an entire class because I didn't want to be a 14 yr old sexually harassed by an adult male. Outside of school hours, he would stalk me around in his "cool" jeep trying to coax me to get in, go for a ride. He stalked me like this until I was 21 and fled from the province. Back to class tho, My at the time crush (since I was little), was the worst with the jokes and ridiculing. That was heartbreaking. He didn't remain my crush for long. The year after, we had a gay teacher that used to make sexual jokes to him and how he would like to do push ups with him underneath. SOOOO inappropriate but less than what I had and was still going thru, I made it a point to be equally douchy. Now the jokes were on him and there was no holding me back. He got so mad too, it was ok for me but not for him.
After 2 years of being sexually harassed, touched and humiliated and countless times of telling the principle, I was still unheard and once again actually blamed as the source of the problem. His defense was I was a troublemaking kid and I was hitting on him and I wanted it. Foster care, fights and the reputation my mother had created for me, everyone just went with it. Nothing to see here folks, just some lying trouble making kid. There was cops always at my school so I tried there too. I guess pedophilia isn't a crime when you drive a cool jeep and the most popular teacher at school. He did this to teenage girls for over 20 years and I was long gone from school before he finally got arrested about a decade ago. his court defense was the same and it was consentual so he got a reduced sentence. Cause he's the cool guy with the cool jeep you know.
Why am I so invisible I kept asking myself. Why is this my world? Is everyone experiencing this and I'm just one big cry baby with mental health issues? It didn't appear that way looking at the other students. My parents didn't care so I was the perfect target, I was just a burden to them anyway. Being uncomfortable at school, I just started skipping it entirely. Can't abuse me if I'm not there. Well then here comes more unwanted bothersome principal visits for my mom. She had better things to do with her time that be there for her child. It was cutting into her soap operas she had taped on vhs and sitting on her behind. Poor woman, I really feel for her discomfort. Long story short, she left me at school and told me to not bother coming home.
So I didn't. It was winter and cold. What was I gonna do now? 15, my id being withheld to cause me more problems so I couldn't access government anything, shelters or a job. I had gotten the clue by now that unless I exchanged sexual favors, I wasn't going to get much of anything out of life. YUK YUK YUK Everyone judges ever under estimate what you would be willing to do to especially on the colder days when -30 was too uncomfortable to sleep outside to get a warm place to sleep, a shower and something to eat even if it was just a dry slice of bread or a bowl of kraft dinner. They usually had loads of alcohol so I would be easier coaxable. Good, numb my mind so I don't have to remember it and be completely disgusted with myself. If that's how I'm going to get treated by adult men, might as well make it work in my favor. That was my silver lining. At least I could get a good night sleep...almost, couple of hours at least. Stuck in some sicko's tender warm embrace. Gross. I try not to think about it too much.
I didn't have family or friends to go to, my mom had contaminated their opinion of me with her lies so nobody would help me as a "troubled runaway child". She even called the cops reporting me missing a few times to cover her tracks. The cops knew but never did anything for me, they would question me and leave. Anyhow, she kicked my half sister out when she became around that age for her attitude and drug usage but everyone was willing to help her. She just lived at her dad's anyway since they were separated at that point. I always wished I had a dad, or anyone for that matter. Guess that just wasn't my destiny.
If I was lucky, I would find a family where there was children to care for with a single mom or low income family looking to go to work but couldn't afford childcare in exchange for a place to stay. That would always be short lived as soon as their drunk pedophile husband or their family friends would start sneaking into my bedroom at night and they got jealous, well the free ride was over and my life would be blown up into pieces over and over again. It didn't matter that I didn't want it and would fight back. It was never their husbands fault for being a useless pig, it was always mine. What were my choices tho? I really didn't have any. Everyone was too busy dealing with their own problems and police are useless, probably equally guilty of being pedophiles themselves, why would they do anything, this is normal behavior after all. Who cares about some dumb hoe kid. None of it was even my fault and I was doing the best I could with what I had.
If I wasn't in a home being pedo'ed on, I was sleeping on a street bench, Tim Horton's bathroom was ok too(popular canadian coffee house). They would eventually kick me out after a few hours but hey, that is still a bit of sleep. I could take a hobo bath and wash my undergarments in the sink there too so I didn't look and smell like the degenerate I was forced to be. I did that for almost a year. At some point, my bra was worn out, full of holes, straps were broken so many times, there was no more room to tie it back with knots. Since I was already a degenerate of society, what's sinking a little lower. I went to a department store and stole 2 bras and got caught. I sorta wanted to get caught because if I went to jail, it was a more consistent place to sleep and 3 square meals a day. That was my dream at the time, I was probably around 16 then.
Turns out you don't go to jail for that especially as a minor, they call your parents and give them a hefty fine ($400) that came out of my birthday money that would get taken from me by my parents for my entire life under the guise of saving it for later. what do you mean later? I needed it now! It was my money all along! It would have helped me out greatly. She didn't want me to have anything nice, he didn't care cause I wasn't his. Well darn, another dumb plan of mine and it didn't even work.
Although that cop was ok, he grilled me about it, looked at my background saw all the bogus missing child report and was confused why there was never any follow-up or how the story ended. He did ask questions and finally, someone saw I was in serious need of help. Not that there was much resources there for me being in a small town. He did convince a shelter for abused women to take me in, he helped me with getting my id. I could only stay there a month but it was enough time and an address for me to be able to find some crappy job somewhere for $5/hour.
After the 30 days I had to leave but I had a little bit of work money accumulated, I found an apartment to share with some degenerate drugged up chick. I get it, probably not that smart of a plan, once again, all I had. My mother had spread so many lies about me, degenerates is all I had left, frankly, that was probably still more than I ever had. It worked for a month or two until I came back from work on the 1st with the door kicked down, my rent money stolen along with everything in the apartment except for a hair elastic on the floor with the cop landlord grilling me for rent money and why the door is kicked down. WHYYYYYY! Why is this my life. What did I ever do to be born? What a joke. Silver lining, I could tie my hair with the elastic she left me I guess? Aside from that, I was back to square one. My fault for wanting a break from life and try to get somewhere legitimate and safe-ish ...how dare you claw at the wall to try to survive, the universe said to me.
I experienced constant jealousy from my boss, the whole time I worked there and she refused me raises based on it because she thought I was pretty. She was a gorgeous millionaire that was the heir to a restaurant and a ford dealership along with being happily married and her golden child on the way. She claimed pretty girls get everything. Wait what? Pretty girl advantage? Jealous of me? Please, have my life and I'll take yours no problem. No need to be jealous. I'm almost 40 and I'm still waiting for that pretty girl advantage soft life of equality everyone speaks of. When is it my turn? Back then I was still a teen tho. At that point, I knew what didn't work so back to the drawing board, new plan that probably going to end disastrously.
I found a single mom in provincial low rentals with her children (our version of "the projects" I guess), her rent was $200/month so I offered to cover that while I stayed there. Who knows someone in need more than someone in need. That arrangement worked until I could save up and get back on my feet and my own apartment, all mine, without a degenerate roommate. Nothing catastrophic happened there. Thankfully. After a couple of years, when the storm had passed, I thought it would be a good idea to maybe try to repair relationships with my family. My first phone call, my step dad answered: What do you want now! Well then I thought. Sounds promising. Not. I tried anyway for a few years because I'm dumb. But I was lonely tho! I always dreamed of having a loving family, I was stuck on a stupid idea, I know. Happy family. Now I know it's nothing but a myth. If only I knew then what I know now.
Around 20, I felt financially secure enough to try to finish high school via college, with a new pilot project by the government I had a bit of funding and hey paid for classes. It was not quite enough to live on but a strong start, nothing a part time job couldn't fix. I get a phone call from my step-grandma to go talk to the owner of this bar. The owner was a long time family friend, his dad and my step grand-pa were trench buddies in WW2. Must be safe. Turned out to be a gangsta and a front for a cocaine den, the money was good enough to get me thru school. They kept trying to recruit me to be a stripper for them in other bars going from Montreal to all of the Maritimes. I didn't tho. While I was in school, I had an excuse, they still had manors...sort of and they didn't like pedophiles so I guess we had something in common.
When I was out of school, well, free ride was over. I should have known it was too good to be true. The pretty girl advantage they say, I get everything handed to me on a silver plater, born with a silver spoon in my mouth they say. Yes they legit said that and everyone in my life still thinks that. I to this day, get sabotaged out of the jealousy of others. There is no convincing anyone otherwise. So that's the story on how I fled across the country before I ended up a stripper to a powerful gang pimped out to them by my well meaning grand mother.
She legit was clueless and probably didn't intend any harm, at least I would like to think so. Not agreeing would have been dishonoring her. Legit. I should be thankful for the job she got me and what everyone has done for me during my childhood. Ok, thanks for all the trauma and heartbreak. Thanks for destroying my soul everyone. I know other under privileged girls that actually became strippers and made good money that got themselves thru university, law school, med school. Maybe I should have went that route after all. Seems to be the only way to earning that so called "soft life" they speak of, cash in on that "pretty girl advantage".
Looking for a better opportunity, I got approached for this sweet modeling gig. YAAAASSSS The pretty girl advantage finally, actually just an opportunity to be honest. It wasn't a strech, I had just won a pageant, the ones where the gang at the bar had entered me in without my consent, that was to be my initiation present. I didn't know it at the time. I had another round to win but a friend tipped me off. The modeling gig sounded good at first, pretty normal actually, go for some photoshoots in Montreal for an acceptable fee, just like stripper money but with slightly more clothes on and I don't have to watch the pervs and that disgusting look on their excited faces.
Travel, outfits, make-up, hair blowout provided, which is actually normal. Until it was time to head to Montreal. Suddenly the plan had changed and the shoot was in San Diego. Wait...what? I obviously backed out and got scared. Later in my adult life, I started seeing testimonies of girls stuck in the Peter Nygaard sandal. What they were offered and the unfolding of events sounded all too familiar. Way too familiar. Did I dodge a massive human trafficking bullet again by changing my mind? They said they were from broken homes and desperate for any break at all in life and they got suckered in and it turned out real real bad for them. Finally something legit to be thankful for, that I had enough wisdom to see the holes in their story and ditched at the nic of time. disturbing silver lining but one nonetheless.
Once in my strange land, I started off at the neighborhood bar where I got recruited to work in an administration position and learn the ropes of an office job for a well known roofing company with multiple awards of "Canada's 50 best companies to work for". They would be willing to train me. Oh my god!! Start at 30k /year and upgrades in salary as I move along with my training. I get my big break I was waiting for! Hurray!! Nope, the universe had one more dump for me. The boss was just a perv and when I refused to go up to his hotel room after a night of drinking when meeting high profile clients, which was normal for that company to have, I got a call from HR the next day that I was fired. Wait what? Can you even do that? I was barely there a couple of weeks. Got fired because I refused to have sex with my boss. Hum...is that even legal? Not anything I could prove tho. You lose some and you lose some more. I was 22 at that point. OMG
I got a trade instead. They paid for part of my school no sex required. Hurray! Until you get to work I guess. Turns out equality only applies to being allowed on worksites because it's illegal not to. Somehow that translates into equal opportunity to men. Even the decent ones. True equal opportunity would only apply if I was having sex with someone in supervision. If I dare say no, then I am faced with rumors, early layoffs, refusal to provide the required personal protective equipment as in a blow job in exchange for a hard hat when it's supposed to be provided for according to our workplace contract (that company now defunct after they lost a major court case against human trafficking in a third world country) even underhanded violence and bullying. Skills on he job don't matter, only those in the bedroom. Since I wont lower myself and oblige, well I don't get much but the basics.
In the meantime, make do with what I have right? Don't be such a negative Nancy. Be thankful you're allowed to be on site and we have to give you equal pay. Is that how men get treated? The money was ok tho. Because they had to. In the meantime, still in my early 20's, if that's what I got to put up with to advance in life, it is what it is. The only chance I had anyway. The saving grace, I didn't have my mother sabotaging everything for me if I'm 5 provinces away, it's basically like moving 20 European countries over...oh wait, hold that thought. I'm dumb remember?
For some reason I still had trust for my mother, people can change. I was far away from my biological gram-pa and that was tough, the only one in the family that didn't bully me. He didn't do much to help me but at least he wasn't mean to me. That was a step up. He got sick with bone cancer that eventually metastasized into his lungs. He was a great gardener, I loved hanging out in his garden when we visited as a kid. I would sit there and eat the vegetables right out of the ground, my mom would get so upset at me. I don't know why, I was eating my vegetables instead of trash, I also wasn't allergic to that food, maybe that was the problem, it didn't have a chance at killing me and I was too full to eat the toxic food she fed me. She fed me soy almost everyday despite my allergies. I don't think she cared.
It dawned on me today, one of her uncles sold life insurance, did she have a policy on me and was her neglect part of a bigger plan so I could die of an "accident" and she could cash in and be rich? I try not to think anyone could be that sinister but with my life? Who even knows, even if someone did, they would all cover for her and believe her filth anyway. She's the innocent one in all of this according to the rest of the family. Poor her, she has such an ungrateful child.
Ok, back to what I was going to say before I got side tracked with my new found epiphany. My gramps was really sick and I was making money and she wanted to move and sell her house, living there was much cheaper too. OH NOOO...I know you can probably smell the stench thru your computer of this dumb idea of mine. I thought I could buy it, work, pay it off quickly and move back home, live a normal life. I had an apprenticeship and a promising career after all, what a dream. It was nothing but a dream. Not a good one tho.
Like an idiot, I bought it. It was full of flaws that she didn't disclose during the sale, that place was a trap with, the whole place was in such bad shape needed everything new furnace, new electrical, new roof, the list goes on. The repairs needed would have costed more than what it was actually worth. The neighbors wanted new siding and since it was a town house complex, they were trying to drag me to court to pay my share. During all that, I was trying to to go to post secondary to get myself somewhere. Anywhere at all at this point. When I was scheduled to take possession according to our contract, I bought plane tickets to return, move in and apply at the local power plant near by and finally get somewhere in life.
So I went home, got to spend time with my grampa and she NEVER MOVED OUT. She stayed there for at least 6 months to a year after. I don't really remember. I was fuming because all the job positions were filled by the time she moved out, I pre-planed everything and it was all sabotaged despite my efforts and good intentions. In 2009, bottom fell out work wise and it was hard to find work. Rent here was expensive and everything became too much and financially drained me. I had to stay here because she wouldn't move out trying to pay for both places while trying to go to school and progress in my apprenticeship. I lost everything, and I mean everything.
My gramps died, I had an eviction notice on my place here and struggling to find work, my union threatening to ban me from being dispatched until I go to school and upgrade my skill because it had been over 18 months and I was supposed to go yearly. The neighbor's lawyers after me about that stupid siding. Right, that was my biggest concern at this point. Sure. With an eviction notice, I talked to the dispatcher, he was always nice to me, for no reason at all, about the only one so far, he called up some buddies and got me a job in Fort Mac. It wasn't optimal or much money. I wanted to go to my gramps funeral but I couldn't. It was what it was. I knew, he knew. We had said our goodbyes over the phone just a few days before.
The night before he passed, he also visited me in my dreams. In his full glory, with a loving message. In the dream, we were sitting in a car talking saying his goodbyes and one last hug. It felt so real. I knew it wasn't, it was just a dream but I knew that is what he would have told me if it was real. When my mom called me to tell me of his passing, she told me about his strange death bed babblings, so she thought, he was delirious. His last words was the dream. I didn't tell her any of it until she told me the story. It was word for word the dream and not a detail missing. It was real all along. OMG.
After I told her it wasn't delirious babbling, the jealous part of her really came out because she didn't get a dream like that. As projected, I couldn't go to the funeral and went to work, I had 2 weeks to make enough money to cover my rent before the eviction was official to save myself from total catastrophe and I did. I worked there for 5 months total. In the meantime, she sent me hate mail, called my employment union, and company headquarters in Calgary and said I was missing and hadn't been to work in 2 weeks. This jobsite was in the middle of the boonies without phone lines or cell reception. A camp job. It takes a rep to drive there and go investigate to find out.
None of it was true, she did it more than once twice for sure, maybe even three times. I almost lost my job because of it and I almost got kicked out of my union too. Everything I had been working for in the last 18 months and she almost recked everything for me. how can this demon woman blow my life up from 5 provinces away and still get away from it. Just not fair.
I was my gramps first grandchild and I was never left anything. My mother always threatened to take my inheritance away time and time again for a decade already at this point for the rotten child and degenerate human being that I always was according to her. I knew there was money and I had a hard time to believe that he didn't leave me anything to help me out. Boy I needed it so badly too. I was going to take that money and finish paying her for the house so I could get out of our agreement with integrity and if there was anything left to pay, well with my wages and just be done with her. I suspected she probably kept the money for herself.
If she never tells me about it, then how can I collect, was that her strategy? Maybe it was left to her and he trusted her for helping out her kids in a fair way dividing it up? Maybe there wasn't any money? He had a house and was a business owner in the mall, dying broke was a stretch. There was no point in asking her about it, she would have just lied anyway and all her flying monkeys would have covered her since they also buy all her lies and also think I'm a degenerate and on drugs.
She spent my childhood and early adulthood telling everyone she was waiting for the day the police would find me as a dead hoe in a ditch on drugs. Her golden child was the ones doing pills as a teen, not me. It was ok for her tho. I smoked pot and drank (I quit drinking alcohol over 15 years ago). Enough with the exaggerations there but everyone eats it up because the victor gets to tell the story. Not the actions she took against me since birth that led me to act in desperation just to survive, keep myself safe and somehow provide for myself as a child.
I sold that dumb house I was trying to move into at a fire sale, it was becoming too much of a burden. I had to go to school and instead of paying her with the proceeds of the sale, I took that as my big break and paid for school and whatever living expenses needed. I'm not proud of it. I know it lacked integrity and cut all ties with her or anyone associated to her, I finally had enough...Took me long enough. I sorta semi regret it to this day but not really (the money part not cutting ties). She had done so much already it was time I stick it to her and retaliate (I'm highly against retaliation, it is what it is). I kept an open heart about her wickedness for far too long. I had no choice anyway, I was going to get expelled from my union and employment if I didn't go. The only chance of a legit clean life I could ever have without having to sell my body. It was me or her.
I did visit some relatives on my step father's side last year, they live just a couple hours away and are actually normal. Just blind about the whole situation, the ones that kindly tell me that my parents did the best they could. They at least never bullied me and all I have left. The bonds are far from strong tho. Anyways. I was getting grilled as to what I did with all this money they seem to think since I have been given some sort of mysterious money somehow. Then it was revealed that there indeed was money. I said, I don't know about any money left to me by my gramps. Not that there wasn't any just I didn't get any. Turns out she did steal my inheritance? She always said she would anyway if I didn't talk to her. Can't say I'm surprised.
Now lets continue to my "career opportunities". Well, I work contract work so I don't have to stay in one place for more than a few weeks at a time because the conditions there have been that bad for me. It's just an honest means to an end. Until...whenever. Eternity I guess. I still refuse to have sex with many of them as they harass me, which gets me repercussions, lack of work opportunities because I was born the wrong gender. Men that get refused sex turn hateful and violent in underhanded ways like trying to drop hammers and other tools on me. Murderers and rapists (convicted and not convicted) run those jobs as supervision because it's a click and their all drinking buddies that cover for one another.
One guy, tried to push me off an internal structure at heights where rescue would be difficult. There was witnesses, nothing. The next job I met him, he dropped a heavy metal tray that would have split me in half but I moved out of the way just in time so it didn't hit me, nothing. The same guy on the next job, I was partnered with him and equally uncooperative. I went to the top of supervision and tried to be heard, about the safety issues and bullying I was experiencing, I got switched crews, he carried on like nothin happened. He has dark skin so he's free from any consequence because he just calls racism and everyone backs off. Reality is, he comes from a country that doesn't respect women at all and I especially don't deserve to be there or have the right to tell him what to do...to his standards. And he acts on it.
He's far from the only one. Guys like him are there by the 100's creeps of all kinds. convicted murderers and rapist have more rights than me. Because they are men. There was a time when I was being followed to the bathroom by men. I officially complained for 5 weeks. Nothing. Men hurt me purposely, injure my fingers so I can't work, sabotaging me. Try to report it to def ears. Everyone one acts blind to it. Cover up for one another. Because I'm not a man and I don't want to have sex with them or if it was up to them, I wouldn't have the right to be on site.
I get constantly harassed, ridiculed, told when I'm allowed to speak and that's only when I'm spoken to. Try to report it, I get punished. They carry on an laugh about it. Constantly subjected to rumors and untrue statements being spread around that reck my credibility as a trades women and nobody ever questions it, even the good ones perpetuate the stereotype yet say to my face women get treated better in life than men...Perhaps they can tell me where that life is...been looking to be treated with the integrity I deserve for a long time.
I work with thousands of men. For major oil companies and contractors that supposedly take pride in being women friendly. Yeah ok there bud. Sure. Not fooling me my experience says otherwise. That make me sign this bs piece of paper for every job about "everyone has the right to a safe workplace that is bully and harassment free/0 tolerance". Who does this apply to? Just men? It certainly doesn't apply to women. Not once in 15 years. On any site. Next time I'm not even signing it, I'll just rip it up and hand it back. If it doesn't apply to me why sign it. It's not all bad and doom and gloom but there is enough bad being ignored to taint my experience of a "safe, fair inclusive workplace" I am promised. It's like that everywhere I go. Do I have a label on my forehead that says spiritual toilet? I don't harm anyone, I don't wish ill on anyone.
Any insight or knowledge I have is no good, even if it's the tried and tru method used for 60 years, that I'm supposed to teach the next generation of tradesmen. They will do the opposite and be combative out of spite because I'm not a man and I shouldn't be there. My other half works with me. You would think he would stand up for me. Nope. He goes to befriend them and leaves me alone in a corner...time and time again. Then turn around and say yeah I have a strong woman, she doesn't need me to fight her battles. meanwhile he goes around being belligerent to anyone he feels like irritates him, even if it's irrational on his part to the point where he will lose jobs. Even to supervision.
On what planet? Who told you that I didn't need somebody to stand up for me? I have been praying for just that Someone to look out for me, stand up for me when I can't, for literally anyone at all to care. Why is that too much to ask. Why am I so invisible? unheard? Even to those who claim to love me?
He means well and his kinder than anyone has ever been to me. I try to be patient. His lack of awareness is astounding, it's getting me hurt, almost killed twice within the span of a few months. I can't reproach him of anything because nothing his ever of his doing and it turns into pointless fights where I'll just be frustrated and unheard even when he's clearly in the wrong. He's ok most days but when he has his fall from grace, it's of epic proportion and he brings some really bad things in our lives. Yet it's everyone's fault, never him. He must be perfect in his own eyes. I try to guide him but no avail. He's kind to those who steam roll him, befriends them and is loyal to them and gets surprised when they just take advantage of him yet combative and harsh to anyone actually trying to help him. I seriously don't get it. He's not all bad but what is bad is bad. He has a serious lack of discernment.
In his thoughts he cares for me, he provides for me. Yet if I leave anything in his hands, I would never have anything and we would always be struggling and thigs would end in a disaster for my future. Obviously I can take care of my own damn self why I take the abuse at work. Because I don't have a choice. I accept his short comings, nobody's perfect and he's actually mostly a nice guy. his bad decisions are starting to get to me. It hurts him that I do not trust my life or my future in his hands. If I did it would be a bad decision on my part. I'm not sure how much walking away would even do for me, I would just be worst off.
I might have to. He broke up with me while he was sober because I gave him grief about his attempts to drink and drive and put both our lives in danger. It's not even like him to behave like that ever even. I had to yell at him and embarrass myself just to get him the cab because he was ok to drive. He never drinks and drives. He hits bouts where he's not even him, and that's when these bad things happen the he snaps out of it with minimal to no memory of it. I don't know how to even explain it properly. Now a few weeks later, I sit here in relationship limbo and he acts like none of this even happened.
I always had hope for better days but they don't seem to come. Where is this soft life men speak of that all women get? Where is the pretty girl advantage that everyone tells me I apparently have? Can anyone point me to those privileges', or am I too ungrateful to see them? I treat everyone with integrity to the best of my abilities, I put my pride aside walk away rather than retaliate if it's possible to do so. If I have no other choice, then I got to do what I gotta do to survive but nothing shady. I don't wish ill on anyone or wish to harm anyone. I reject any hate that tries to fill my heart. Is that why I'm invisible? Because I do my best to live in a soft hearted way no matter what I have experienced.
I used to enjoy going to the mountains but I keep getting hurt there too in weird freak accidents to the point I don't even want to go anymore. It just never ends 3 years ago, I had to go to work to do hard labor with a foot in the grave after I almost died of covid. I'm still experiencing long term effects from that. Last year I got hurt going on a trip with his family and his mother's crazy senile lady antics because she dislikes him and wants everyone to have a really bad time since she stole his children of 15 years ago, I can kind of see why but we don't have to get into that. Doesn't mean she has to ruin their first visit the way that she did. Just like him, has no recollection of any wrong doing and it was fun for everyone. Except to everyone else tho. He gets it from her but hates her for the same behavior. Can't see the issues in his logic tho and no intentions to work on it. Everyone getting less than they deserve is easier. Yet it bothers him.
Anyways, I had a bad sprain on my ankle and my elbow just a couple weeks before work. I had to go to work and climb every tall structure on site. This year, I got 2 of my fingers injured, tissue injuries yet again I have to go to work injured again, they take a long time to heal. All because men can't take direction from a women, it's offensive to them. Glad my well being has been offensive to everyone my entire life. When do I get my turn? when do I get my happily ever after. I have gone above and beyond all of my life. Not everything has been bad, I do have a lot of things to be thankful for, well if you accumulate all the silver linings. Not that great but it keeps me from giving up. But the good never comes. Just a series of make do with what life presents me.
I feel cursed somedays but I rebuke it because I don't want such hateful thoughts but when will life show me different. At this point I'm afraid to leave the house. The only place where I'm safe. If I stay in my own bubble and not interact with anyone I'm happy. I don't want to. I just don't like what I experience when I leave my bubble. My safe place, with all my books and my incense. Where nothing can hurt me. where nothing is messing with me. Where I'm not being bullied or abused. Just like when I was locked in the basement in foster care. I don't need to be seen or heard there to make it in my bubble.
When I exit my bubble, I feel trapped in the corner of a room with no doors clawing at the wall standing barefoot on hot coals for survival because there has to be better out there for me, eventually. Maybe? Is that wishful thinking? I don't seem to get justice anywhere. Seems like the ill-intentioned thrive. Have I not gone thru enough yet to prove I'm worthy of something peaceful besides my house? Will it ever end? The light is growing dimmer and dimmer with each venture outside my bubble. Staying here isn't healthy and I know it. I once again just don't know what else to do. I'm tired of trying. I have accepted my fate and make the best of it. All of my best efforts thus far have been in vein. Tagged from birth.
I didn't write this for clout or pity. It's just seems to be the only justice I'll ever get, my voice. They will never have my voice. I will kick and scream my words can't be herd, probably wont be read either but here they are there just the same. You can suppress me but you can't delete me. I will not be like those other women who just vanish without her story ever being told. Even if nobody ever hears it. It still exist, like I do. Somehow. My mom, she told me I would write a book about her abuse and treatment of me. Maybe this is part of it, who knows. How did she know? She was obviously aware of her constant vile behavior towards me and what I was going to do with it yet she did it anyway. Maybe I wrote this to unload my heart, so I can have the strength to take another 40 years of heartbreak. Maybe I'm just growing my own personal garden of wisdom. That's my only silver lining in my life. The strength and wisdom I posses. No one else but me needs to understand it, it's mine all mine but I can share.
I'm reading a book on Cleopatra. Her story is tragic. Misjudged, mistreated fought with all she had for her own honor. Rose above whatever she faced, even when she had to make some hard decisions to make it. Fought for her own honor when nobody else would as the last queen of Egypt. Yet her image is decimated 2000 years later, because she was a women yet her name persist in a timeless way. People don't try to rob empty houses. I relate to her story even tho it will never be told proper and it's too late to ask her. Forever remembered by the rumors of jealous men and family members seeking her power, seeking to rob her of herself.
A woman of great knowledge, filled an entire library with her wisdom that got burned down made big advancement for medicine towards women's health, childbirthing technologies of her time, midwives continue her traditions. Yet all she seems to be remembered for is being rolled up in a carpet offering herself sexually to a Roman emperor and her suicide like some drama play. Never the strong women that she actually was. Women that men don't like will always be treated and called a hoe, a witch, treated like a stray dog even when undeserved. Is that a reflection on men or on women? The gender most still think is the lesser gender, no matter what. No matter where.
Men fear women of power and destroy their legacies yet say to our face, equality and fair opportunity. Rising above their constant sabotage as long as we can, until we just can't. How has our world not changed 2000 years later and it's silently accepted and promoted. I have enough self love I don't need anyone else's but it would sure be nice.
To go thru this and somehow survive and still have the strength to take another step. The strength to smile, even if it's just half of one and forced. That's what's left. Take it or leave it. Someone always says well someone has it worse, maybe doesn't mean this sort of treatment is justified. for any human being ,man or woman. This is obviously just a brief summery of 40 years anyway. not all of it. That's also just the stuff I know about. It's a whole iceberg out there, will I ever know tho? Sometimes what you don't know can't hurt. Like in some sick joke not knowing is easier to bear. Easier on the heart. It's been shattered so much but it's still there. like a million grains of send held together by a magnetic forcefield. It's mine and nobody can take it, even if it's the last thing I own.
Now I'm watching my friend trying to leave an abusive situation, and getting the same treatment from society, her cries unheard by those who could do something to keep her safe, almost being forced to return to her abuser not knowing where to turn because standing still is the least harmful option available. No matter what she does, she just can't win and I can't even help her but encourage her and offer her platonic love, feel for her, I walked in her shoes once. That hurts me, cuts me deep. Sometimes to just be heard means the world. So it's not just me. I'm not just some ungrateful brat. The world is just unkind to some more than others.