*Trigger Warnings: Descriptions Of Physical Abuse, Mental Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Parental Abuse, Verbal
*Trigger Warnings: Descriptions of physical abuse, mental abuse, emotional abuse, parental abuse, verbal abuse, child neglect, threats, anxiety, panic attacks, violence towards children.* Monday, June 19th, 2023 6:32pm
Today, we’ll be diving into the wonderfully enraging topic that is my stepfather.
It is truly baffling yet underwhelming that a man such as he, exists. And till the day I die, I will continue to wish the most ruthless hell for that man. So, let’s start from the beginning…
The thing about James is that he’s a deceiver. Someone with many masks, with two sides like a coin, a shapeshifter, if you will. I will never forget the first night I met James, I was only 7 at the time. You could feel the dishonesty in every breath he breathed, with words that hid his true identity. I remember telling my mom I didn’t like him when she asked, after he left. Whether fortunate or unfortunate, she remembers too.
I learned the context for his odd behaviors long after the time, but he always hated the house we lived in at the time. He would always come home irritated for some unknown reason, acting in very brash ways. My mother would inform me years later that he hated living in the same house, sleeping in the same bed, eating at the same table, as the boyfriend that came before him. So, I guess the only logical solution would be to move, right? At least partially, no?
We had a wonderful 3-bedroom, 2-bathroom house, around the corner from my Nana. My younger brother and I had friends in the neighborhood, and would scooter around the corner to see our Nana, Grandpa, and Uncle. We went to a science academy, and my mom was doing absolutely marvelous as a single parent. But we moved. To a 2-bedroom, 1-bathroom house, 20 minutes to the next state, infested with roaches and mice, all for a little over $500 a month because dear old stepdad had a friend! And as a bonus (which was really the whole point), he got to call everything his! And did!
Anthony and I are almost 4 years apart, so I was almost 8 and he was 4. We moved churches, and it was like you were a completely different person. You would smile and laugh and joke and would be affectionate. But then again, there were people saying, “Oh, look at well behaved your boys are, James!”, “Your boys are so handsome, James!”, “I know they’re going to grow up just like their daddy!”. Umm… excuse me miss, sir, I’m standing right here and THAT is not my dad.
We would go to our local BlockBuster and would be so excited to see the amazing place that brightened our eyes every time we went. You know, because every kid loves an outing. But, of course, it wasn’t for us. Ever. We weren’t allowed to look at the kids movies, weren’t allowed to ask to see the games they had, just wait for James to pick out the 4 or 5 movies or tv shows that he and his fiance (our mom) get to watch. Thank the universe for Nana for getting us a Wii, because all there was before that was trying to find ways to play with each other or watching wildly inappropriate TV with our “two parents”. Because seeing nudity and sex scenes are important for 8 and 5 year-olds to become men, right James?
Remember that time when me and Anthony were giving each other wedgies because we thought that shit was hilarious? Then, you punched me in the face so hard I flew into and broke our bookcase? Remember that time I stayed up all night playing video games, and you held and choked me against the wall? Remember that time when we lost one of the games we rented from BlockBuster, and after we found it, you threw every single toy, movie, book, game we had in the dumpster? And if not, oh well, because it didn’t stop there!
After my little sister was born, time sped up real fast. All of a sudden, they’re getting married, while just the five of us are standing in the pastor’s office, and I’m holding Malia and deemed “best man”, the day after my birthday. He said to me, “Well, now when you’re grown, you can tell your girlfriend that we got married right after your birthday!”. Then, we’re changing the house layout to where their bedroom and the living room are switching places because we need more space. I’m, now, given the esteemed responsibility as “baby-sitter” at age 8. My mom was pregnant again, and my sisters were going to be 10 months apart. Oh! And the most important bit, Anthony and I were now, “not his kids” (trademark it), and the violence got so much worse.
So, as he built himself a kingdom amongst rags instead of riches, where he is the sole king (without a queen), everyone else became his servants. Everything in the house now had the possessive “my”, every single thing done in the house needed to meet your standards, everyone had to heed your requests and desires, no matter how untimely, and everyone had to be your audience as you spoke of promises for better that never came.
Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5
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*Trigger Warnings: Mentions of death and passing, grief, loss of family members, illnesses, and emotional breakdowns.*
Thursday, Oct. 27th, 2022 Part 2
4:46pm
Last night, Angel asked me about Granny (my great grandmother) and I told her about Granny’s conditions. After I answered, Gem asked me a lot of deep questions about how I felt about the situation. I’m not ready to witness Granny’s conditions firsthand, even if it’s over the phone. I feel this fear and pressure about addressing the situation. After I finished expressing that vulnerable feeling, she asked if she could give me a suggestion. I had the immediate thought and feeling of apprehension to say, “Not at this time.”, but instead, I nodded my head because I wanted her to feel that she had the space to support me. And, because of the pressure of her being Angel’s partner and the choice of saying no, seemed like a possibility for either of them to feel hurt by that.
She then proceed to tell me things she wished she had done when time was leading up to her grandmother’s passing. She was extremely triggered and started to sob as she spoke. Then, Angel shared about her experience grieving her grandmother by celebrating her life, with photos and altars, and finding comfort in the qualities in herself that she got from her grandmother. Gem brought up her grandfather afterwards, and talked about that time while crying as she relived it. Angel was getting up and leaving, finding things to do around the apartment, through that part of the conversation as Gem spoke.
Once she finished, I told the both of them that I appreciated what they shared with me, and thank you. But, I really didn’t mean it. I appreciated that they wanted to help and support me, but what transpired and what they said was not what I was expecting or what I needed/wanted in that moment. When I said that I wasn’t ready and as I shutdown when thinking about what they were saying, I thought that it was understood that I also did not want to get in too deep either. Gem inserting herself in my moment of vulnerability with Angel at first, then speaking about her periods of grief while crying, shifted the conversation out of my comfort zone, worsened my fear and anxiety of my Granny’s health, and centered the conversation from me to her. It was triggering and much more emotional than what I wanted. While she and Angel spoke, it was so hard to stay present and not disassociate. I wasn’t trying to go through that and it left me feeling empty and numb afterwards. Throughout that conversation, all I was doing was imagining the many different scenarios of confronting Granny’s illnesses, her death, and after, I almost cried too as she spoke about her grandfather. It was filled with such heaviness. I wasn’t ready then, and I’m still not ready…
Part 1
*Trigger Warnings: Descriptions of su*c*d*l ideations, harassment, trauma, hospitalizations, breakdowns, triggers, depression, PTSD symptoms.* Sunday, May 28th, 2023 Part 3
12:06pm
That incident with the driver triggered me, so badly to the point where for the next week, it was like I was back with Dad and with my step-dad. I couldn’t separate my past reality with my present one. And, 4 days in, I stopped going to classes. I missed 2 weeks by the time that I almost acted on my su*c*d*al ideations. I stopped myself though, and told my therapist. She suggested I go to an in-patient hospital down the road at Emory, and I took it. But, it made everything worse, and I regretted it.
I went without telling anyone, and I thought the school would handle all necessary communications with my teachers, like they said they would, but they didn’t. I was bitter and sad and angry and numb the moment I stepped out of the hospital after almost a week. Then, I spoke to you and the New York Plan started.
You were the first and only person that I told about the hospital. I thought you would be mad at me, at least I made myself believe that. But, you were the opposite, you were mad at Emory like I was, and after you told me what you went through to try to find me, I thought you were finally starting to understand why I didn’t like it at Emory. You were fiercely protective of me like you always have been, and I knew that my big sister had me.
But then, you called back later that day and said that I should fly out to New York the next day, and for the first time, you scared me. Everything was moving too fast all of a sudden, and me, being where I was, just out of the hospital and so ready to die, I was so ready to come to you, but the logical side of me pumped the brakes so hard and so fast.
Of course, I needed the support, I wanted the support, but there was no way that I could just up and leave, but also, leave and then what? We didn’t talk about that first. I had to think about my college trajectory, how things would change, what I would be risking, what and who I would leave behind. Everything was too much to work out to just leave the next day. I processed and understood that enough to take a pause, which in hindsight, I really commend myself for.
The next 2 weeks were awful. I was breaking down crying almost every night, trying to wrestle with the fact of leaving not just just Emory, but the life that I had staked everything and was failing to maintain. I was losing an already lost battle, but it was just catching up to me. When my professors told me that I either would need to leave or fail my classes, when my therapist was pushing for me to go, when my advisor told me leaving would save my full-ride scholarship. The world decided for me what would be next, and I watched my world shatter. It was heartbreaking and frustrating and so filled to the brim with grief that I was drowning, truly, when I already thought I was. But, there was you and there was Gem.
And even though I had a January deadline to meet and the pressure equaled my sorrow, I knew what to be done. So, I filed the medical leave, and jumped on the plane.
Part 1 -- Part 2 -- Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7
Discovering and Rediscovering Me, while Adapting, Changing, and Evolving along the Way - Public Diary21 y/o Black, Non-Binary, Queer Individual with Dreams, and a Life to Live and a Story to Share TW: Abuse, Su*c*de Attempt, Su*c*dal Ideation, Depression, Anxiety
162 posts