The Most Humiliating Experience of My Life

Today I’m doing something rare for me…two posts in one day! I didn’t plan to post this second entry today, but I feel compelled to do so and get something off my chest that I’m tired of hiding. For a long time I debated whether to tell my real story or not, because even when our family hurts us, we still feel a need to protect them.

So this post is about the most humiliating and potentially traumatic experience of my life. It happened when I was 15 years old. At that point I had already endured a rough childhood of turmoil, including being surrounded by and sometimes the target of verbal, mental and physical abuse, my parents’ constant instability in relationships, and the death of my father when I was 12. So, I was already pretty banged up emotionally and mentally. Not to mention the fact that I had undiagnosed high-functioning autism, which made it really hard for me to find my place in the world or understand it.

Anyhow, when I was 15, a boy who was I had been school friends with for years started showing interest in dating me. He was two grades ahead of me and 17 years old at the time. I agreed, but wasn’t sure if I really wanted to date or just be friends. So, I did bring him to my house a few times to hang out with him. In the end, I decided I just wanted to be friends and we decided not to date. Ironically enough (as you shall soon see), my mother actually helped me officially “break up” with him. We never kissed or anything like that, but the kids at school thought we were together and he was technically the first boy I ever “brought home”.

So after deciding to just be friends, I thought life would just go back to normal. But I was wrong. My mom started acting sort of weird. She was sneaking around having mysterious phone conversations and I even once caught her hiding outside, smoking, something I had NEVER seen her do before! I knew something was up, so one night I quietly picked up an extra phone extension to see who it was she was talking with at night. I was shocked to hear her and the guy I had been “dating” exchanging “I love you’s”. I confronted her after the call and she admitted to being in a relationship with him. I was angry, humiliated, shocked, and sickened.

After that, she quit hiding it and started taking off on dates with him pretty much every night, leaving me all alone night after night after night, or even dumping me off on random people so they could go away for days at a time. Before long, she moved him in and I had to live with them. By this time, everyone at school knew that he was dating my mother, which brought me a lot of uncomfortable questions about the situation, since they had all thought I had dated him. I even overheard teachers talking about my mom and the boy. Everyone treated me like my family was insane, and I felt like they had a right to do so because we WERE insane. It felt like Jerry Springer type stuff.

One of the most hurtful incidents I remember during this whole time was when I got into a fight with my mom’s new boyfriend. It was just a verbal fight, but I made him so mad with what I said that he punched me. I was so hurt by this that I jumped on my bike and rode away, even with my mom yelling after me to stop. Eventually I came back home, and instead of making him apologize to me for hitting me, my mom threatened to send me away to live with relatives. At this point, I felt like I was nothing and no one wanted me.

My mom married this boy the very day he turned 18. So I was going to the same school with my new “step-father”. Even though school had always been a refuge for me in the past, now it felt like torture every single day. I started skipping constantly and barely ended up graduating in the end because of all of it. When I was 16 we moved to another state and I went to a new school, but the feeling of shame followed me and I had given up on caring about school or about anything else. I was soon diagnosed with depression for the first time (not surprisingly!)

To this day I still hold a lot of resentment, anger, feelings of betrayal, and embarrassment about the whole thing. I have a relationship with my mother, but it is precarious and not the most trusting.

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My Dead Sister’s Birthday

Today would have been my sister’s 41st birthday if she hadn’t committed suicide back when she was 35. It is really weird now because I am 35, so I am the exact same age she was when she died. For the first time ever, I will soon be older than my sister ever was. I won’t be the younger sister anymore…or at least that is how it feels.

Last night I didn’t sleep well at all, I had nightmare after nightmare after nightmare. None of them were specifically about my sister, but I can’t help but wonder if subconsciously the feelings I have about her birthday rolling around might not have affected my state of mind. Honestly, I didn’t even think about it being her birthday until a few minutes ago when I looked at the date on my computer clock and it hit me. Of course, this time of year I often think about her, but I am not good at keeping track of days. When you don’t work outside the home, it is easy to forget what day it is.

I’m sorry if this entry is a bit of a ramble, but I have so many mixed emotions and still so much pain about it all that it might not come out as orderly as my normal posts. Days like this really get to me, even if I don’t consciously think about them. It is like a lurking shadow hanging over the entire week or month. I’m sad today and now I’ve remembered why.

The Need to Protect Abusers

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Unfortunately, I’ve faced a great deal of abuse in my somewhat short lifespan. Physical abuse, verbal abuse, mental abuse, and emotional abuse. Most of this abuse happened when I was growing up and happened at the hands of people I should have been able to trust and look to for protection.

There is a part of me that desperately wants to be open about all the things that happened and purge my heart and soul of them publicly. I want to speak the truth out loud and shed light on things that have always lived alone in the darkest part of my psyche. However, I find myself so scared to share the truth and feeling immense guilt at the thought of outing those who were responsible. I feel protective towards my abusers because I still love them through it all and feel guilty at the thought of tarnishing their reputations, both the living and the dead.

Why, oh why do I still feel such loyalty and duty to those who hurt me the most deeply and betrayed me the most selfishly and cruelly? Why am I swamped in guilt for just wanting to be open and honest about my own experiences? Why must this battle between my need for expression and my sense of loyalty tear me apart? How do I ever find healing?

* Art by Maranda Russell

Time Flies

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“Time flies” is an expression we often hear, and there may be some truth to it, especially when it comes to “time flies when you’re having fun”. I’ve noticed time doesn’t fly nearly as much if you are depressed or in pain, which is unfortunate, since that is the time it would be best for time to pass swiftly. Just another little unfair quirk of reality. However, I am thankful for the times that do run as swift as a flooded river, because the memories of those good times help get me through the days when time crawls by like a wounded caterpillar. In appreciation of those good times, I created the above little mixed media collage ACEO artwork and thought I would share it with all of you.

Bad Depression

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I’ve been really struggling with depression lately. And I mean really struggling. Like, can’t get out of bed struggling. Like sleeping more than half the day struggling. Even when I do finally get out of bed, I often find myself back in bed soon after, lying there staring at the wall and the ceiling for unlimited amounts of time. I do still have an appetite at least, but I think a lot of that is the meds, which make me hungry almost all the time. Of course, sometimes with depression I do tend to comfort eat as well. So along with the desire to do absolutely nothing, I am also plagued with anxiety about gaining weight from being hungry all the time. I don’t see the doctor again until the day after Christmas, so I am just having to muddle through the best I can, but it is really hard. I feel like I am constantly fighting just to function at all. Even washing my hair or brushing my teeth seems too much for me most of the time and I have to force myself to do it. This level of lethargy is ridiculous, and sometimes I wonder how I’m alive at all.

Feeling Old and Sick

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Today I’m feeling about as old as Bugs and Daffy look in this picture I colored a while ago. I’m only 35 years old, but it often feels like I am much older physically, thanks to the chronic fatigue syndrome and fibromyalgia. My husband currently has the flu and when he was telling me how bad his body aches and fatigue were, I couldn’t help but think that I’d never be able to tell the difference from my everyday body aches and fatigue. In fact, with my chronic ear and sinus infections, the only way I ever know for sure if I actually get a virus is if I am running a high fever. Otherwise, I figure it is just my normal daily crud I have to deal with.

Sometimes it is easy to forget what it was like to NOT feel sick all the time or hurt constantly. I can’t even imagine living without it all now. I’ve become so used to the routine that I’ve accepted it in a sense and admitted defeat in my own mind. That is likely not a good thing, considering that I feel I’ve lost all hope to ever feel healthy again. I’m not writing this today to try to illicit sympathy or just to whine, but it is what I’m thinking about and dealing with, so I felt it only honest to share. If you are a fellow sufferer, let me tell you that I am truly sorry you have to go through all this as well.

Life is Pain

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Life is pain.

And I don’t mean that
in some philosophical
bullshit way…(or maybe I do?)

Life is pain, whether it
be physical, mental,
emotional, or existential.

The gentle yearning ache
of a heart perpetually unfulfilled…

The bittersweet bile of nostalgia
creeping up one’s throat…

The sharp bite of our
unreliably aging bones…

The mind-numbing weight
of each day survived intact…

The desperate call of a soul
that may or may not actually exist…

~ Maranda Russell