Uncategorized

My Personal Disappointment

I am going to share some recent and not so recent events in my life that keep leaving me disappointed.

As I have talked about before, I was molested when I was 13. I’m not sure that I have talked about my family’s involvement in those events. Months beforehand, my cousin, who was 9 at the time, experienced the exact same from the same man. Mel had not only molested her, he had exposed himself to her. After him doing that, my cousin went to her mom, my aunt Cindy, and told her what he had done. My aunt proceeded to not believe her. Then after what happened to me, she finally was faced with the truth.

The years after we’re full of us trying to forgive. Forgive Mel, forgive Cindy. Forgive Mel for hurting us and to forgive Cindy for putting a man above her family. We managed to come to that point. I love my aunt Cindy. She has grown and she has taken care of me. But her living situation has not changed as much as it should have. She still has let men live in her house. She has one living there now.

Chris is my uncles childhood friend. He lives with Cindy. During his stay there, cindy has grown to care for him as they help one another. During this time, my mom and I were letting my uncle live with us as he was trying to recover from alcoholism. He had relapsed many times and we had given him many chances. It came to a point where he was refusing to stop drinking and lying about us to others in our lives.

My uncle was friends with my moms friends husband. Rita, my moms friend, was coming to my house and caring for me because I am very sick. It was a heaven sent. My uncle proceeded to lie to her husband, telling him that I was faking the severity of my illness for attention. Rita’s husband told her not to come to my house anymore because it was not necessary.

I am trying to get on disability because my illness has made it so I can’t work or go to school. My uncle doing this could have damaged this process and could have made it impossible for me to get better. We proceeded to kick him out.

My mom told my uncle and Chris that she did not want them to come to the house when she wasn’t there. He made plans to come with Chris when my mom was here so he could get his stuff. He told my mom that he wouldn’t come without her there. What does he do? He proceeds to come with Chris at 10 a.m. I’m asleep half naked in my bed. I wake up to the sound of them in my room taking the TV that he had lent me. They also proceeded to try to take things that weren’t there’s. The last time had felt that exposed and that disrespected was when I was molested. There is a man not related to me in my room, without permission, while I’m almost naked.

After my mom found out from my aunt Theresa. She called my aunt cindy and asked her why they did that. My aunt cindy knew of the rule my mom put forth, she was going to come with them, and knew that Chris and my uncle wanted and were going to disobey. She told my aunt Theresa but neglected to tell my mom. After cindy was confronted, she told my mom that “she made a decision and my mom needed to get over it.” My mom could have called me to wake up and informed me but instead my uncle and his friend were prioritized over us. Doesn’t all of this sound like it’s happened before?

Cindy neglecting to inform us about a man, and I end up in a situation that I can’t control. I end up with my privacy violated. I’m not angry in this situation. I’m frustrated and disappointed. My mom and I are constantly going out of our way to love our family and we get betrayed by them over and over again. We aren’t saints, I know that. But I would never put my family in the situations that my uncle and aunt have put us in.

So now, we have to take a step back. We have to set strict boundaries with our family. I am so utterly disappointed. I love my family but I can’t keep doing this with them.

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Chronic illness

I know what I am

I know what I’m bad at. Looking sexy, staying on a routine, and maintaining my weight. I’m bad at telling people that I think I’m better off dead, or that I’m in so much pain, physically and emotionally. I am the worst at closing the wippies after I use them and at washing my face. I am terrible at letting people in and seeing what’s going on with me.

I also know what I’m good at. Being a derp, forgetting what I should do next, and not eating while still gaining weight. I’m great at saying nonsense so that people are distracted, or acting when I’m not alone. I’m a pro at drying out wipes and getting pimples. I’m really good at talking about what others want to hear and putting on a show.

Christianity

Nutcases, Pinterest, and Jesus

I want to write about my friends. I have a small group from church and I never imagined the friendship that would be created. I have many great girlfriends in the group and they have introduced me to whole new worlds.

They have broadened my faith in Jesus, expanded my musical tastes, and introduced me to beautiful new cultures. I hope I have done that for them in other ways. I hope that our friendship expands for years to come.

I have to admit that I am afraid. I am a person who is full of fear. I am scared that my friends will see something in me that makes them walk away. I'm afraid that this will end like the past ones. I fear that I won't have anything to give to them in our friendship like they have given to me.

As someone who is chronically ill, it is normal for me to not be reliable. But I want to be a person that they can come to, someone they want to come to. I want to impact their lives in positive ways. I want them to want me around. This is difficult for me to express. One day I won't struggle to tell them how I feel in person.

I love my Tuesday night nutcases. I love the women that have chosen to remain in my life. I wish them all the great things God has to offer. I wish for more 30 minute laughs. I wish for more inside jokes. I wish for more game nights. I wish for more chapters of my friend's book. I wish for more "drunk MM knows what she likes" moments. I wish for more Pinterest notifications. And I wish for more gluten free cookies and frosting! God willing, there will be more to come.

poetry

Like A Year 

I am like a year. I go through seasons and sometimes I’m not constant. But with me you will always know what day it is. My seasons depend on my body and the time surrounding it. I can have times where I am barely conscious. When months go by and I’m sleeping due to the exhaustion. 

Then all of a sudden I will be alive and happy. Where I experience everything going on around me and the Lord is constantly present. 

Again the season will change and all I experience is trial. I get stuck inside myself and God is on the back burner because I need to be strong on my own. Being weak with God gets prolonged and I slowly fall into a pit. 

I’ll end my year flat on my face trying to receive forgiveness. Forgiveness for the same sins I committed the year before. Making empty promises to my God about how I will serve him through out my year nonstop. 

I know what my seasons are and that I need to change them. But I never do. Each day I know I’m doing it all over again but I let it take its course. And through out it all, my savior is still as close to me as my right hand. What a fool I am and what a merciful God I serve.

Uncategorized

What Needed To Be Said…

Warning: this is about molestation. It does go into detail. 

I want to tell you a story. I had a dream that I was 13 again. I was in a court room with a jury, a lawyer, and him. I was subpoenaed to take the stand and answer the questions his lawyer had for me. 

“Are you ready?” The lawyer asked me shallowly. 

I replied with a question, “So you are going to ask me certain questions so that my answers make Mel look not guilty of something he is definitely guilty of?” 

“I’m trying to get the truth.” He said raising his eyebrows. 

I leaned forward towards the mic, “I am 13 years old and my cousin is 9. Mel is somewhere in his 50s. He lived with her for around 8 months before that night. It was a Friday, the first night of our 2 week Christmas break. It took 2 hours to get there, like usual, so it was late that night. We were celebrating Christmas early like we always did. We begged to open one present before we went to bed. My mom and her 2 sisters gave in. We got Christmas pajamas but mine were a bit too small so my stomach showed slightly…” 

“We don’t have all day..” his lawyer interjected. 

“All of this is relevant and the truth. Don’t minimize what happened to me.” He apologized and gestured me to continue. 

I clear my throat, “I wore the pjs anyway. Later I was in my cousin Warren’s room. We were sitting on his bed and playing video games. All of a sudden Mel stuck his head through the door. He wanted us to spend time with the others. We didn’t want to stop playing so we said no thanks. That’s when he started saying that Warren was into me. And that my cousin wanted to have sex with me. I was shocked, I shook it off as his crude humor. He left and I looked over at my cousin and asked if he would go out to where the others were. He agreed. Once we got there Mel was excited that we came and hugged me. I felt uncomfortable due to the fact that I was in puberty and I didn’t have a bra on…” 

“Did you tell your mom that he was saying those things?” He questioned. 

“No I was embarrassed. I didn’t want to think about those things.” 

Jotting something down he replied, “Continue.” 

I took a deep breath, “Shortly after that we were sent to bed. I slept in my 9 year old cousins bed with her, my mom and my aunt tete in my aunt Cindy’s bed, Mel in the living room with my aunt Cindy on the living room floor. Mel came into the room kissed us goodnight and drunkenly struggling to turn off the tv. He left and returned a while later and repeated the same thing. I was confused but I fell asleep right after my cousin. I woke up groggy and on my stomach. I felt heaviness on my legs but I didn’t process the fact that there was someone on top of me and they were licking and kissing the top of my butt untill moments later. I was terrified. I slowly turned my head to see who it was, and once I saw Mel I jolted back to laying flat. He noticed I was awake and slurred ‘shh go back to sleep.'” 

“Did you scream for help?” The lawyer asked connivingly. 

“I was in shock so no. I couldn’t find my voice for a while after it happened.” He nods and tells me to continue. 

“So  I replied to him telling him that I needed to go to the bathroom. I don’t know why I said it. But he got up, pulled up his pants, and backed into the corner of the room where it was darker since the moon was lighting up the room. I got down to the end of the bed to get up and I told myself not to look at him. But I looked up and saw his face. He looked back and he quickly got angry. He came after me and I ran to the bathroom that was in the living room. He knocked and knocked so I told him through the door that I would be right out. I turned on the faucet to make it sound like peeing…”

 “I’m sorry but you were letting him know that you would come out to him? This is extremely difficult to believe.” He scoffed.

 My anger rose up in me, “You know what’s hard to believe? A man being charged with battery for climbing into bed with a 13 and 9 year old and touching one of them sexually. Him getting less then a month in jail for ruining my life. For destroying my family. I can’t close my eyes without remembering how I felt in that bathroom. I close my eyes and I go back to when I realized that I had his saliva all over my butt and inside my buttcrack. I go back to me sitting on the toilet scrubbing myself raw so that I was sure he wasn’t on me and I relive the moment that I realized that he was still out there with my baby cousin and that he has probably already done this to her more then once. I go back to making the decision to take her place that night. I shut my eyes and I remember the feeling I had when I realized that I might loose my virginity to a 50 year old without my consent. That I had to open the door and distract him from my cousin and I had to do it now. And the numbness my body gave me so that I could survive. I relive the relief I had when I opened the door and I found him passed out on the chair and I ran to my cousins room. And I relive my heart breaking laying next to her and deciding instead of not saying anything about it I would tell. I relive every moment. This is what I call unbelievable.” 

There was just silence. The lawyer was just doing his job. I knew that, but I had to do mine. 

Everything ended, he took a deal and spent 3 weeks in jail. He got to go home to his sister and 2 nieces. Maybe if I actually was able to say this in court then he would have never had the privilege to go home. To be surrounded by exactly what he wanted. 

“I failed…”

That’s when I woke up. My heart was racing. It was a crazy dream. Reliving something and imagining something else that I wanted to do so badly. I never had my chance to say what needed to be said. 

Uncategorized

I’ll Get There…

Have you ever thought about what life would be like if we didn’t hate ourselves? I know for a fact that everyone does. We are all the same in that way but different in the ways we show it. Imagine loving yourself humbly. Do you think we would start loving the people around us too? Or is it selfish to daydream of a moment that I didn’t feel disgust when I looked in the mirror? Does loving yourself have to be selfish? Why can’t we like ourselves in the state that we are in right now? I am always trying to fix what’s wrong. I’m too fat here, I need a filter, or my boobs aren’t even. How do I become perfect?”

I don’t think I have done anything “perfectly” in my lifetime. I don’t even know what perfect is. When will I know when I reached “perfect” when I have never seen it? If I link my happiness to perfection, I will never become happy. No matter how many times I say, “Just one more sit up.” or “This foundation will make me look flawless.” There will always be something “wrong” or something to “fix.” I am not sure how to start accepting my self as I am or how to be okay with how my body changes. I know that I’ll have to take it one day at a time. “I’ll get there, Don’t worry.”

Chronic illness · poetry

A Slow Hollow

It’s slow. Agonizingly slow.

With each moment it grows more

and more swollen.

Closing my throat.

Digging my nails into my neck

trying to catch one breath.

Hours pass and I don’t want to

keep fighting for survival.

I can’t get rid of the poison.

Every heart beat feeds it.

The longer I continue to live

the longer it has to find more ways for me

to suffer.

Who could ever love this reality?

To exist next to it.

Who would choose to suffer

because I had no choice?

It eats me.

Slowly consuming me.

Seven years, what is left of me?

It makes me into nothing.

I’m wasting away, unable to

choose my existence.

I exist as it wants me to,

Hollow.

Chronic illness

Lies Able-bodied People Believe

If this describes you read this.

Let’s talk about the myths that abled-bodied people ignorantly believe about disabled or chronically ill/ chronic pain suffering people. To make it easier to follow I’ll make it in list form.

1. “Because we are are disabled our minds don’t work correctly therefore we can’t be smart or defend ourselves and if we can, we aren’t disabled.” Okay first, there are mentally disabled people but that also doesn’t mean that they aren’t smart or that they can’t understand when you speak to them. Second, someone can be only physically disabled. That means that when you talk about that person whether they are mentally or physically disabled they can hear you and they are human just like you. Depending on the person, if they can say something, they will do something about your ignorance. And just because we can tell you to stop being an asshole doesn’t mean that all of a sudden we can walk or suddenly we are healed from our conditions. Think my friends, think.

Me, a disabled woman, traveling.

2. “Disabled/ chronically ill people can’t travel.” Travel is possible for us. It might be harder and we need accommodations but that doesn’t mean we can’t or shouldn’t! Our lives have been restricted enough so when you have a chance to live outside of your routine, you would take it. Especially if most of your life is going to be full of pain, sleeping, pills, doctors, needles, and surgery. Disabled people deserve a vacation too.

Me volunteering at Feed My Starving Children

3. “They like being sick because they like the attention.” I’m not saying that there might be some person out there like this, but I have never met someone who hasn’t been praying and crying because they can’t take this life anymore. People have committed suicide so that the pain would finally end. I don’t care if you think they are being over dramatic, they are fighting off their own body every second of everyday. Do not insult anyone going through chronic illness or disability by telling them that they enjoy feeling like they are being ripped to pieces every day because people to glance at them. Most of the time our attention is our caregivers dressing us or cleaning us or it’s people starring at us and judging us because we are parked in a disabled spot and we don’t have a wheelchair or because we have medical equipment sticking out of us and they think starring with a sick look on their face helps us with the fact that we have no choice in the matter.

Me enjoying a concert. Yes I am still disabled

4. “You are laughing and smiling so you must be fine.” Here’s something for ableists to remember, WE ARE NEVER FINE. We show you smiles and laughs because you don’t have the capacity to handle a mere description of how we feel. We never have a pain free minute. And sometime being distracted and laughing at something else helps us not focus on the fact that we are going to live like we just got hit by a train for the rest of our lives. If we lived 24/7 showing our emotions and truly feeling them, I think we would kill ourselves. 

5. “People with disabilities don’t work as well as able-bodied workers.” I’m just going to put this quote right here… “In several studies, including those previously mentioned, it was found that 91% of the workers with disabilities scored average or better when compared with the general workforce. Their attendance is also better.”

Just saying…

This is how I’m going to look at you if you speak for me.

6. “We have to talk for the disabled and chronically ill because they are just incapable.” Can I just say that when you speak for another person, you are telling them that they are not needed there and that they are useless. They know more about their lives than you do, so shut it and let them be a social being. When people start speaking for me, I make sure that they know that everything that they just said was not correct and/ or I tell them that my nervous system is broken not my mouth. We will stand up for ourselves.

I have only mascara on. You see how sexy beautiful I am. Yes I am still disabled.

7. “Disabled people are ugly and lazy.” Okay just like everyone else, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Not everyone who is disabled looks the same. Not everyone who is disabled IS the same. We have faces just like everyone else and being disabled doesn’t effect our sexiness. We wear the same clothes, we wear makeup just like you, and we come in all different shapes and sizes JUST LIKE YOU. We just want to be treated normally and also have our disabilities and illnesses respected. Just because I feel too physically sick to wash the dishes doesn’t mean that I’m choosing to lay down and pass out. Laziness is a choice of not doing your responsibilities, when it’s not a choice you can’t label me as lazy. You can label me as not able, aka disabled… See how that works?

You know how long it took me to get my hair and makeup done? It was hard and stressful. Not lazy. Yes definitely still disabled and chronically ill.

I know that there is so so much more I could mention and rant about. If you have some that I didn’t mention or you want to rant off of one of these rants, comment your hearts out below. I love hearing about your opinions and stories. Don’t be afraid to ask questions either! I just got really tired of ignorant people this week and wanted to make some things very clear.

poetry

Swipe Right


I aim to be a missed call

in 2017.

You know that my phone

is glued 

to these bloody palms.

I just didn’t swipe right.

Isn’t that what we desire?

Look at me,

see what I created for you to see,

love what I can never be, in a second,

and swipe right.

I won’t get close to anyone,

so let me get inside you,

just for tonight.

Swipe right.

Our hands are chapped from 

the friction.

It takes at the least 2 years

to know the complexity of 

ones existence,

but all you need to know about me

can fit on your phone screen.

Swipe right. 

Bloody hands from rubbed

raw finger tips.

How long can we lie?

Emotions are enevitable.

The faster you run,

the slower they slit your throat.

Humanity cannot change 

how it feels by manipulation.

There is no app for deleting 

the past.

You will sense every connection.

Swiping right 

cannot protect you.

One night will last with you

Forever. So be right.

If you believe that everlasting 

hides behind the act of

a swipe,

find it in yourself.

You think you can avoid 

loneliness by

using private parts 

and manipulation,

you fool.

Lies call you now.

They know that the phone 

is in your grasp.

The trap is set and 

all a bleeding thumb needs to do is

swipe right.

Uncategorized

What A Broken Love We Have

I find myself in the same situation so many times. Misunderstood by my dad and his side of the family. Then I am the enemy when I try to explain and my mother is to blame, since she is the only one who raised me. 

Sophomore year was emotional. Not only was I dealing with health issues but also my fathers drug abuse. After I had enough of my life being in danger in the car one too many times, I went to my grandmother. I told her how he was struggling with addiction and driving under the influence with me in the car. How we went into on coming traffic and how I had to steer for him on 30 min or more drives. She did nothing, the only words she said to me was,”You are lucky to have a father.” The phase that my dad would use to excuse his actions. 

My father and I drive home. I was lucky enough to have my permit at the time so I could drive him home. I had had enough so I uttered,”Dad, it’s me or the pills.” He   Looked over at me while I was driving anxiously and flatly said to me,”I am not throwing away my pills.” Heartbroken I replied,”Okay.”

After I got home, I told him to not bother speaking to me until he got clean. What I didn’t expect was that it would take him a year or the blame I got from my grandmother and my aunt. Knowing everything, I was to blame. I was wrong to stay away. Even though he did clean up and now we have a relationship again. I am still a terrible daughter and granddaughter. They still don’t like my mother even though they have never put effort into taking care of me. Even though they have never taken an interest in anything I have done or have helped with my medical care. We have asked for money and they bitterly obliged. 

They love me when I sit quietly. But I have illnesses that are constantly screaming. I will not be walked over because I was raised by “lower class.” I will not take anyone seriously when they try to give me “treatments” when they don’t care enough to ask about or research the illnesses that I have. I will not take your words when it has to be said through others because you won’t tell me yourself. We pride ourselves on being family but we don’t even love each other enough to care about each other. Let’s stop pretending that our family is doing well. I am willing to fix what we can but first we need to acknowledge the truth and be honest.