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the-farmers-rabbit · 3 years

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ADHD: It’s real and serious so please don’t mock it

Some of my friends (neuordivergents like myself) were sharing some cool shirts they found. Ones that were about autism and ADHD which is really cool to see. Then they showed a shirt that said ADHD (but like the ACDC thing). below it, it read “highway to HEY LOOK A SQUIRREL” and to say I got upset is a minor understatement.

For a few months I actually hyperfixated on ADHD, which was really helpful because I was able to learn a lot about the disorder I have and how other people are effected by it. As my understanding of it grew so did my acceptance of it. I stopped hating that part of myself and stopped blaming myself for things that my ADHD was responsible for. I gave it a persona (The ADHD gremlin) which made it easier to cope with it. If I was reading a passage and none of the words sunk in, it wasn’t because I myself was stupid. But it was because the ADHD gremlin was blocking the way. I learned to cope with it by making it a separate being.

Through doing that and through learning about how it actually works compared to a neurotypical brain, I began to understand how complex and, honestly, fascinating ADHD is. Every case is different. Some people have minor cases, making it easy for them to mask. Some people, like myself, have severe cases which, until diagnosed and treated, can lead to severe penalties in school and in life (I almost got put in special ed in elementary school but that’s a different story). And quirks were just as diverse. Some people ramble (like me and my wiggle buddy, @novas-space) other people write. Some people fidget with toys, others doodle, some fiddle. Everyone is different and it’s so amazing to learn about it.

Now, back to the reason I want to make this post. The t-shirt. I have seen a lot of stuff like that with “chase the squirrel”-esc wording and jokes on them. And at first, when I first got diagnosed, I was fine with it. I found it funny even though I can’t relate. But as I’ve gotten older and as I’ve learned more, tested with my medication more, done projects and papers and researched more about ADHD, the more that kind of joke pisses me the fuck off.

Now, i get it. We do get distracted easily. Hell, I’m watching a show while I type this and am checking my discord every few minutes. Yes we get distracted. But I’m not a fucking dog. I don’t see movement on the ground and immediately drop my conversation or my book or whatever I’m doing. I’m not that simple. I’m not that dumb. People with ADHD aren’t dogs that get distracted by the doorbell ringing. We are complex people with actual disorders that, depending on the severity, can severely impair our way of life.

I have spent years, years, of my life, degrading and hating myself for something completely out of my control. I spent days paralyzed by the fear of constant failure, unable to do the thing that i was so afraid of failing. There are times when I am so understimulated that I feel like I’m dying and times where there is so much noise, I have to go to the bathroom and cry because I couldn’t handle it. I am not a fucking dog that you can fake throw a ball for and I’ll fall for it.

I have a disorder I have been diagnosed for and am taking medication to help me survive in a world not at all built for me. This world is built for people who have brains that work correctly and speak in normal tones and understand the deeper meaning behind texts and can crank out a paper in a few hours with ease. It’s built for people that can touch any texture and not feel suddenly nauseous if it’s the wrong texture. It’s built for people who choose to not do something and call me lazy when I physically can’t. It’s built for neurotypicals. It isn’t built for me.

And it took so long for me to come to terms that no, nothing is going to be as easy as it was in elementary school and no, those people can’t hear the lights flickering and no, you can’t change every project topic to something you actually understand because “if you were confused you should have asked”. It has taken me so long to accept that I have ADHD. I have a severe case of ADHD. My brain doesn’t have a proper reward system, I have a hard time interpreting instructions, I can’t remember what I had for breakfast or if I ate at all, and I don’t know what a theme is. And that’s ok.

So when I see something that is marketed for neurodivergents with something like “hey look a squirrel” on it and I get angry, I’m not going to let someone with a correctly functioning frontal lobe to tell me “chill it’s just a joke”. Because no. It isn’t a fucking joke. It’s something that I have to live with and you mocking it and invalidating it makes me upset. It’s my life that I have to survive because of a world built for NTs. So I’m going to get angry when something targeted to me invalidates my entire experience

#adhd #undiagnosed adhd #capitalism #neurodivergent #actually adhd #actually neurodivergent #angry rant

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deathsmallcaps · 4 years

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July’s Story

My fifteenth Win A Commission contest is Crystal the Wise! If you would like to see my version, and see all my drawings together, please

There once was a gentleman who had quite a daughter. Whatever her teachers gave her to learn, she gobbled up. Foreign languages, geography, so—all were unspeakably easy for her. And mathematics! She could add up columns of figures far better than her father’s accountants could. Before long, she could have taken their place.

When Crystal (for so she was called) grew a bit older, the neighboring children came over to ask her to explain the problems their tutors had set. Soon everyone came to learn from her. In time, word of this reached the king. He wrote to the young woman, saying, “My son is nearly grown, but my daughter has trouble with her lessons, and needs a teacher who could make her understand. Will you come and stay with us for a few months?”

Crystal was delighted to do so. When she arrived at the palace, the king, queen, and princess greeted her warmly. The prince, however, sulked like a little child. He had offered to tutor the princess himself, but the king had said, “You’re too impatient. I have found someone else who can do a better job than you can.”

Over the next few weeks, the prince sat in the back of the classroom and contradicted Crystal whenever she spoke. His interruptions grew more and more frequent. Still, Crystal continued to teach, because she liked the little princess and wanted her to do well. Tired of being ignored, the prince stood up one day and said, “This isn’t how I learned it. Everything you’re teaching my sister is wrong.” Crystal walked right up and slapped him! After that, the prince kept away from her lessons.

When the time came for Crystal to leave, the prince went to his parents.

“I’m grateful for all Crystal taught me, and after all, she’s the cleverest woman in the kingdom. May I have your permission to marry her?” The king and queen eagerly agreed, and Crystal also accepted, figuring it was a good marriage. She hadn’t realized she was worth more.

After the wedding, the prince took his bride to a secluded cottage deep in the forest. As she was changing into her nightclothes, he came in and said, “Well, Crystal, are you ready to apologize for slapping me?”

“Apologize? I was right to slap you! And I’ll do it again if you keep on about it.” Crystal didn’t enjoy violence but knew when to defend herself.

“Is that so?” the prince snarled. He and a couple servants dragged her down to the cellar, where he thrust her through a trapdoor, into a little cell under the floorboards. There was a bed and a table and almost nothing else. In the morning, he asked her if she’d changed her mind, but she said no. Every day he came down and demanded she repent. Every day she refused, despite knowing her chances of survival were diminishing rapidly in such a dangerous situation. She had tried to run away when he first grabbed her, but even her considerable talents were no match against ten armed men.

Crystal grew weary of her imprisonment, but there was no way she would apologize. One day, she noticed a corner of her cell was blowing air, due to a spider’s web flying into her face. She blessed the spider for alerting her, tand investigated the hole. There, she discovered a rushing underground stream. She dug a hole big enough to squeeze through, and managed to swim all the way to her father’s house.

Her father was appalled to find out how she’d been treated. “I’ll see the king immediately.”

“Oh, no, don’t,” Crystal said. “Just dig a tunnel into my cell and bring me some decent food, and of course, my books. The prince only lowers bread and water.” And Crystal swam back to her cell with the prince none the wiser.

At last, he grew tired of her refusals and called down, “I’m going to Paris to enjoy myself. I’ll have a servant feed you while I’m having fun.”

“Go ahead,” she called back cheerfully.

As soon as the prince had left, Crystal bribed the servant to stop lowering bread and water, telling him to lie to the prince should he come back. She ran to her father and, with plenty of money from him, hurried to Paris, formulating a brilliant plan to ruin him forever with her father. There she disguised herself as a girl named ‘Marie’ and bought a house next to her husband’s.

She then forged a letter to the prince’s parents, explaining that ’Crystal’ had died en route to Paris, and that he was going to mourn for a while. Somewhere in the back of her head, she knew this was a dangerous course of action, and very unhealthy emotionally. But she was SO angry.

Then, each day, she drove out in her carriage behind four white horses. Her gown was thick with embroidery, and her fan was trimmed with delicate lace, and she adopted a beautiful Parisian accent. When the prince saw her, he was dazzled by her beauty, though he didn’t recognize her in Parisian fashions. He began courting her, and wedded ‘Marie’ inside a month, never mentioning, of course, that he had another wife back home. Nor did he notice her glittering intellect, and thought her a dumb but lovely creature. Nine months later, she gave birth to twins, a girl and a boy. Since Crystal had learned a bit, she made the prince sign a contract, vowing the children would be his heirs. He signed it, thinking it would be invalid, for she had drawn it up herself and he thought her stupid. He was mistaken.

Three years passed. Then the prince told her he had been summoned home, but didn’t tell her it was for a new marriage. He didn’t know that this third bride had been set up by Crystal’s father. Feeling bored with his (supposedly) new and beautiful wife, he agreed to return home and decided to leave Crystal and his children behind.

Returning home, the prince hurried to the cottage but discovered the cell empty. The servant told him Crystal had died of loneliness, so the prince thought he was in the clear.

His family got him all set up for the wedding, disallowing him to meet his match, claiming superstition. When the day finally came, he said the vows, and everyone cheered. He raised her veil, and saw Crystal grinning triumphantly back at him. His children toddled out from the audience, and he knew he was in trouble.

Stunned to see his triply-wed wife, the prince knelt down before the court and begged her forgiveness. But it turned out, she didn’t have to forgive him.

Her father produced the contract proclaiming the children as the prince’s heirs and a written account of what had passed by Crystal verified by many sources, including the servant who was supposed to feed her. Disgusted by their son, the King and Queen banished him and stripped him of his personal land, money and title, immediately giving them to Crystal. She and her family promptly lived happily ever after.

My Notes

Now, you may not have noticed, but this story? Extremely messed up. I mean, this woman is degraded and goes on the biggest revenge plot I’ve ever seen a female character do in a fairy tale. She even has revenge babies! They are going to have a pretty messed up childhood.

Why did I choose Crystal the Wise? Well, for three reasons.

One, I heard it on, you guessed it, the Myths and Legends podcast. I really liked his rendition, but I did NOT want to type the whole thing out (I did that with a different story of his that I’m going to give to a different little cousin). I found this version online. And this all happens in the story! Crystal is just that machiavellian, and I applaud her! I kind of wish she didn’t feel like she had to continue having relations with her abuser, or to change herself so completely, but she really hit him with the ol’ one-two, and I like it when people can dole out justice like that. Hopefully she had someone to talk to afterwards? Also its pretty problematic the King and Queen did not realize how much of a little creep they raised to be their heir.

Two, I realized I hadn’t done a story from South America yet! I realize its definitely a more modern story, with less ties to the Native people of Chile (btw the royal family of Chile isn’t a real thing), but I really liked it.

Three, I was looking up the Aymara people of Chile for unrelated reasons when I realized I would love to draw the women! I don’t know what the textile industry over there is like, but it must be pretty entrenched in the culture, because they have so many pretty patterns and colors in their everyday wear! Combined with the bowler hats (legend has it that a shipment of bowler hats made it to Chile just when they went out of style, so the haberdashers marketed them to women!) with all the lovely flowers added on, I was excited! So I wanted to draw an Aymara girl.

Now that I’ve explained that, I’d like to explain my drawings. They weren’t as full of background as some of my other drawings, but trust me, I put a lot of effort into them! I had a kabillion reference pictures.

The title is not based off of any movie logo I’ve seen, for once. Rather, it is based a bit off of the ACDC logo. I was working one day, when someone with that logo on his shirt came up to the register. I was inspired! So I quickly sketched out a sort of geometric, sort of lightning-bolt-esque title in between customers. And I liked it!

The second picture, the slap, was a difficult one for me. It combined an unusual perspective, unusual clothing, and unusual face shapes for me. As you’ve seen with my art, and maybe with your own art, it is often very easy to have a character face you and not interact with another object or person, You can’t really have that happen with a slap.

This story is supposed to be set in the early 1700s, when Paris was very in vogue. But as I really wanted to draw a modern Aymara woman, I did play little fast and loose with the fashion. There isn’t too many reference pictures for old Chilean fashion. I had to reach a little. Which led me to using a more European style of dress for the Prince. And this is the only time you get to see *Crystal dress in a way that is normal and comfortable to her. This is an important ‘theme’ of the story - sorry to go all English class on you!

*Just remembered that Crystal is not a very Spanish-sounding name. I’ve never found the story outside, even when I try to look it up in Spanish, so some part of me is worried that someone made it up and pretended it was Chilean. Please let me know if you find anything.

Their faces are different than what I’ve drawn before. As you can see on the prince’s face, he has serious acne. I’m not trying to demonize acne, but I decided that he’s one of those boys who hates getting clean and despite literally everyone telling him so, will not stop touching his face and causing acne. I went through a stubborn phase like that. But I also wanted to show how young and already so privileged the guy is. I really wanted to make him annoying. Crystal also has a bit of acne, to show her youth, but what really makes her face different than my usual fare is the fact she has a mole, never gets to smile of joy in my illustrations, and she is plump. I have a tendency to draw skinny characters I’m trying to get rid of as an artist - I want to be able to draw everyone, anyone. And i think she turned out quite pretty!

Third picture, the cave, was again sort of a challenge. I wasn’t sure at the beginning how to place Crystal so you could sort of see the hole that leads into her room, while also showing her climbing down and the underground waterways she is going to enter. And as you’ve might’ve seen before, when I draw caves and rocks, all I think of is really ‘geometry’ but in the way the guy in this meme thinks of aliens (look up history channel aliens if you don’t know).

But I guess I did it? As for Crystal, you can tell she’s uncomfortable, she’s skinnier in an unhealthy way and colder than before, her hair isn’t in the customary braids but in a crappy bun to keep it off her face, and her dress is in tatters. Not a happy camper, and understandably so.

Last picture, Crystal’s wedding dress, was sort of hard in a different way, again! I decided early on I wanted to base her dress off of Elizabeth’s wedding dress from Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest. But I had to draw that while Crystal was holding her two kids on her hips, and smirking. I think I managed it, though. I think it’s interesting to note that the look epitomizes the kind of person she had to emulate while tricking the prince; a meek, european-mimicking little wifey. Totally different than the person she really is, the person she is illustrated to be in the first picture.

Anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed that! Another problematic story will be the one for next month! Thanks for reading!

@boopboopboopbadoop

#crystal the wise #wac #win a commission #marital abuse tw #commissions open #piff-paff #piff-paff: or the art of government #smack-bam #smack-bam or the art of governing men #Smack-Bam or The Art of Governing Men: Political Fairy Tales of Édouard Laboulaye #Smack-Bam or The Art of Governing Men: Political Fairy Tales of Édouard Laboulaye (Oddly Modern Fairy Tales)

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muuandmao · 4 years

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Complicated Dad

It’s been hard for me to hard to admit that my dad growing up was emotionally abusive. Especially since all I did was try to get his approval. The person you looked up to was abusive towards you? What does that say about you and what you value?

Recently I was telling a story about my dad to a friend of mine and they reacted to it a bit differently than others have in the past which made me re-realize how awful my dad could be in his anger.

I was 13. It was the summer before I started high school and I was going to take a summer class at the local city college with my best friend at the time. We were with my dad exploring the campus trying to find where the class was so he knew where to drop us off. I couldn’t read the map, it was really confusing, and I had never been to the campus before. My dad looked at me in frustration and said with disgust evident in his voice, “you’re so incompetent.”

What makes that even more embarrassing than him saying this in front of my best friend was her look of shock and pity while I stood there not knowing what the word ‘incompetent’ meant. I knew I had just been insulted but didn’t know how or why. As we kept walking I whispered to my friend to ask what it meant and when she told me, I was devastated. I don’t know what I did to deserve being told that.

I know today that 18 year olds entering college wind up in the wrong classroom on the first day of school. It’s why they have school tours and help people find classes. Seniors in college sometimes make the mistake, too. It’s confusing. Would he have had that reaction towards me if he knew that? It was unrealistic of my father to expect me to know exactly where I was and where I had to go at a place I had never been to before. I wouldn’t even expect the same of him, or anyone. Some people are great with directions but realistically? Come on.

Yet those words have haunted me for years. Over a decade actually.

One of my biggest fears is people thinking that I’m incompetant. Stupid. Incapable of the simplest thing. Ditsy. Not good enough.

It’s funny because I have a better relationship with my dad than my mom. He’s the one I’m closest to. This person that belittled me.

He was the kind of parent that would be angry that he had to feed you so often. You had to do things because he said so. He was never the problem, only the solution.

Any time a mistake was made, whatever logic that might make your actions understandable were just excuses. I could never explain myself because my explanations were not valid. Today I struggle with communicating with people to explain my point of view on things or even basic opinions because I’m afraid of being invalidated. That I don’t make sense. It’s come down to not being able to trust myself. I can’t trust my own experience or perception of anything or intuition. I always find a way to invalidate myself. If anything I end up making excuses for other people’s actions.

Usually when I tell people this story they often just shrug and say ‘that’s parents for you’, or, ‘they were frustrated you shouldn’t think much of it’ or ‘my parents would say that shit all the time, it’s not a big deal’

It should not be normal for parents to degrade their children.

My friend reacted in shock, much more similar to the friend who witnessed it. She could. not. believe. that my father called me incompetent and on many other occasions stupid.

Her shock left me shocked and feeling emotionally hungover from the encounter because it reminded me that what he said to me was not okay. It left me reeling in the shame that I felt all of those years ago and question everything. I felt so overwhelmed. I didn’t understand why this hit me so hard. I had told this story a few times. Doesn’t make me angry thinking about it. Yet...

I was so sad. Overwhelmed with it. I’m 25 years old and I wanted to kick, scream, cry, hit the wall, anything to release this pain I was feeling. I wanted to throw a fucking tantrum.

This happens sometimes when recalling memories of my childhood. It’s because I never let myself fully experience my emotions when the event happened. I often disconnected emotionally, would just completely shut down. Experiencing no emotion was dealing with it. If anything I deserved it. Whatever I did, I could always be doing better. Any accountability the person had of their actions towards me, erased.

I try not to be ashamed of how I used to think I deserved to be treated. Of all the times I thought that things would be better if I was just better. That’s a very childish way to think. Not in an immature way but in a literal sense. For example, children often think a parents’ divorce is a result of them but really it’s because of whatever is going on between the parents that has made being married impossible. The child does not know this until the parents reassure them, but will probably still not believe them so they will continue to think it’s their fault or that anything bad has something to do with them. It’s self-centered thinking (not in the narcissistic sort of way but in the literal inability to think outside of yourself). My perspective of the world and other people’s actions has remained that of a child.

I remembered to give myself permission to feel everything that I felt that night. That’s what they mean by soothe your ‘inner child’. Let yourself experience the emotions and validate what you felt. Soothe yourself in the way you wished someone you loved had done.

So I held myself and cried on my pillow and told myself that I wasn’t stupid. That I didn’t know what was going on and that was understandable. I was only 13. I don’t need to expect the world of myself and that’s also okay. It’s okay. It’s okay. You’re okay.

I wiped my tears and blew my nose. I sat there just to breathe. I made myself a cup of peppermint tea with honey and curled up with my favorite blanket on my bed. I put in my headphones and listened to some soothing lo-fi music.

It makes me want to confront my dad. Show him the pain he caused me and how it has continued to affect me today. I don’t think I’m ready for that yet. I’m scared because honestly I’m worried that he would just turn back into that mean young man that didn’t know any better and was frustrated and stressed and we will lose the relationship we have. I don’t want to willingly put myself back into danger. I just don’t. It could have a completely different outcome, sure. But in the worst case scenario? I’m not ready to face it. Just in case.

#mental health #anxiety #depression #abuse #parent relationships #childhood #emotional abuse #healing #journaling #word vomit

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givemethestoriesofthemasses · 6 years

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At Least

“At least you have a roof over your head.”

“Well it could be worse…you’re not starving right now, are you?”

“Oh, you’re hurting right now? Imagine if your parents were abusive, think about how much harder this situation would be right now!”

Ok, so this post doesn’t exactly pertain to writing—so this will be a bit different for this blog—but I thought that it needed to be said (I mean, if you really wanted to, you could use the psych info in this to inform or inspire your story). Over the past few weeks, I’ve been going through a difficult time, and when I talk to friends or family about it, one of the common responses I’ve gotten is “Well at least you’re not…(insert the most horrible calamity they can think of).” Okay, I get it. You want to make sure that I know that starving children in Africa are suffering. You want me to be thankful for not having to sleep in a box on a highway.

You see, the thing is…I’m already thankful for the things that I have. I’m already aware of the sufferings of others. Why do you think that I’ve gone on social relief trips to third world countries or have donated money to charity organizations? Why do you think I adopted a rescue pet or use hair products from stores that don’t test on animals? I am extremely thankful that I have been given the resources to allow me to succeed. I acknowledge those blessings and do not hold them for granted. All too well I know that an earthquake-sized change may occur without warning in my life and take away the things that I care about.

But being thankful for the blessings in one’s life does not mean that you should keep quiet when there’s a problem. Or that you can’t feel sad, or that you can’t be angry, or that you can’t still feel like your world is crashing down. You can have a bed to sleep in, a car to drive, and food to cook with, but you can still grieve when your pet dies. You can still be angry when your boss treats you in a humiliating way. You can still be hurt when you get into a fight with your parents. Feeling those things does not detract from your gratitude at having an apartment or a stable job.

For this discussion, we need to turn to Maslow’s Hierarchy of needs. For those who don’t know, this chart represents the most basic human needs on a scale to the more complex ones. It’s kind of like stepping stairs: someone who is struggling with finding something to eat probably isn’t going to be thinking about how spontaneous they can be. The reason that I bring this up is because when discussing problems, people tend to bring the conversation back to the first two needs: physiological functions and safety.

These needs are rooted in very basic and very physical principles. These needs are also not as specific as the needs on the upper end of the pyramid. For example, all people need to eat to live, while not all people have the same moral principles or the same ways of expressing confidence. These basic needs are experienced at some point by all people: everyone, at some point or another, was hungry and then was fed. The need was there, and then it was fulfilled. However, not everyone has done enough introspection to think about whether or not they feel confident, or whether or not they’re feeling self-actualized, or whether or not they’re in an environment that supports their moral code. People can’t always relate to the struggles of others regarding self-actualization or self-esteem because they aren’t aware that these are legitimate needs that people have.

Notice that I have circled the top in red, the middle in yellow, and the bottom in green:

The lower tiers—the ones circled in green (physiological/safety)—are needs that all people can agree need to be met. When you’re struggling with these things, people will usually take you more seriously. Your suffering is seen as more “legitimate” because everything can relate.

The middle tier—the one circled in yellow (love/belonging)—is a need that most people can agree need to be met. However, while experiencing difficulties in this area, most people will refer back to the first two tiers. For example, people will take physical abuse to be much more serious an offense than emotional or psychological abuse. If the problem is not abusive, or is relatively minor, it will sometimes be brushed off.

The upper tier—the ones circled in red (esteem/self-actualization)—are needs that people are less likely to take seriously. These needs are not prioritized in our society, and very often this is reflected in our family structures. When going through a problem on the upper two tiers, people will criticize you for already having the first two needs met.

So why do people do this? I’ve been thinking a lot, and the reasons I’ve come up with are:

They don’t know how to deal with your emotions

They’ve been through something that they feel is worse and don’t think you have the “right” to feel upset.

They feel responsible for your unhappiness in some way and want to shift blame.

We all have a right to feel sadness, anger, or despair when something bad happens to us. If someone else has been through worse, they should use that to empathize rather than to discourage. But I’ve noticed that a lot of times when people use this line, it’s because of the third reason. They feel responsible for your unhappiness and want to shift the blame. Telling someone that things could be worse is a very, very good way to shut that person down when you’re feeling guilty. It immediately delegitimizes the other person’s feelings. This tactic works really well because it toys with the other person’s sense of morality: of course they should feel pity on poor people in Africa, of course they should feel sorry for that homeless man across the street, of course they should feel grateful for the things that they’ve been blessed with.

If you catch someone doing this to you, there’s one surefire way to nip this in the bud. All you have to say to them is: “I’d like to focus on what really occurs in my life, not hypothetical situations.” This response is good because it isn’t blaming them, while at the same time, you don’t lay down and accept their manipulation. By saying this, you’re drawing them back to the actual problem at hand. Other similar responses could be:

“I am very aware of how poor people are treated in this country. I’m very thankful that I have the resources to rent an apartment. However, that has nothing to do with the way that my boss treated me.”

“Yes, there are abusive parents out there in the world. Thankfully, mine aren’t like that. However, that does not mean that when my father said x to me, it wasn’t still hurtful.”

“I know you’ve been through a worse situation. I have not been in that situation, and I feel very sad that you had to go through that. However, that does not invalidate my current experience.”

Or you could always go with my classic favorite:

“Yes! I totally agree that children in third world countries need a lot of support. Can you tell me what kind of outreach you’ve done for them?” (this one is good because usually, the person who’s saying this to you doesn’t actually care about children in Africa. They are just trying to shut you down)

Bonus: Be super wary of people who use these excuses in referral to themselves. (Ex: “I’m so good to you—I could have called you stupid earlier, but I didn’t because I’m a good person.” or “At least I’ve never hit you!” or “At least I still think you’re cute when you’re angry.”) These people usually claim to not be abusive, but usually, they are. You do not win a gold star for not hitting your spouse/child/elderly parent. You do not earn any medals for refraining to call your partner a slur or a degrading name. You do not earn any brownie points for not being abusive. “Not being abusive” should be the standard, the bare minimum, the expected.

(I got the images of Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs from: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Maslow%27s_Hierarchy_of_Needs.svg)

#psychology #writing #abuse #emotional abuse #help #writing help #tips #life hack #life hacks #you don't deserve to be treated like this #you deserve to be happy #you deserve better #relationships #abusive parents #abusive family #toxic #toxic people #care #love

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magentadream · 7 years

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What’s It Like?

It’s horrible. Some days there’s so much yelling, so much stress being taken out on us kids. There’s hatred, and there’s anger. It’s like living inside of an emotional hurricane. You can tell when she’s about to blow up. You can’t tell when he’s going to snap. You never know what they mean when they say “I love you”. One moment it’s fine, and the next moment there’s a hand flying at your face. One moment it’s fine, and the next we’re screamed at and insulted. Yes, we’re not perfect kids. Some of us deserve to be reprimanded sometimes.

Even so, the insults? The screaming? The degradation? And over what? Practically nothing. And I don’t mean yelling at us for not doing chores (even though my brother and I are practically the only ones who ever do anything, and yet I get the most shit for it). I mean yelling at me specifically for wanting to keep money that I worked my ass off for, calling me selfish, saying that you do everything for me and you’ve provided for me, so where’s your reward? You’ve given me a house, food, water, and clothing, so why should I get to keep money I worked hard for? Why do they have to do everything for us? Yelling at us for trying to joke around with you, trying to feel like a normal family. Screaming at us when we ask questions. Not letting us defend our actions. Falsely assuming things and screaming at us for what we didn’t do. And when we try to defend ourselves? We’re “talking back” and being “disrespectful”.

What about you? What about screaming and insulting your own children is respectful? What about taking out your anger and frustration on us? What about thinking that it’s ok to hit us? Thinking that you’re above the law, or that since you had it bad as a kid, what you’re doing to us is nothing. We can’t possibly imagine what abuse really is.

Keeping me trapped inside of the house for weeks at a time, not allowed to see friends. And the rare times I do get to see them, you lecture me and warn me not to do anything wrong. You make it known that you don’t trust me, and if I fuck up, I’m never leaving the house again until I go to college. You’ve threatened to kick me out of the house for trying to talk to people. My friends. I’m sure as hell not calling them when you’re around, because you’ll probably just eavesdrop on my conversations. After all, you used to go through all of my texts. But you can’t do that anymore, because I’m not allowed to text. And when I get in trouble for trying to be a normal kid: for trying to talk to my friends, without you knowing. For having a damned social media account.

Those were the most terrifying moments of my life. I felt like you were going to beat me to a pulp. If I hadn’t said something to my mom, about being scared of you, then I’m almost positive that you would’ve done it. I never fucking know with you.

And yes, I lied about it. I did it without your permission, and without you knowing. I did it several times. You have every right to be angry with me for disobeying you, because in your minds, I’ve committed sin. I’m not acting like a good Catholic. I’m not supposed to lie and sneak around. I’m betraying you as a daughter. Maybe you should stop following your religion so blindly and ask yourself that maybe there’s a reason why I’m doing it so many times. Maybe you’re wrong. Maybe the ways that you parent are why I’m reacting like this. But you’ll never see it like that. You’ll never realize that, because your religion is right, and as long as you follow your religion, then you’re right too.

You don’t even notice that I feel like I’m walking on eggshells when I’m around you, and that’s almost all the time. When I get upset over something you do, you tell me that I’m being irrational. When I start crying, you tell me to go to my room, because you refuse to talk to me when I’m emotional. You’ve told me so many fucking times that my opinion doesn’t matter in this household. I’m not allowed to be involved in conversations that involve MY future.

When you found out that I hurt myself when I was in 8th grade, and some of it in 9th grade because of all of this shit going on, you were angry. And that’s ok. You were hurt; you didn’t know why your daughter would do such a thing.

And then you accused me of having mental problems. You accused me of not coming to you when I was feeling like that. You couldn’t grasp why on earth I didn’t say anything about how I was feeling. And maybe you were saying that out of anger. Maybe you were saying that out of hurt. But you reprimanded me for being a follower, and having no backbone, because I told you I had learned about it from other people.

Why do you think I didn’t go to you?

Why would I go to you, who screams at me for talking to you in a joking manner?

You, who’s done all of this shit.

You, who grabs my arm and violently shakes me in public when I argue that the dress that’s an inch above my knee isn’t “too short” or some stupid shit like that? Who whispers in an angry tone as she shakes me, saying “You’re humiliating me!”

You, who’s made me have panic attacks, and nightmares. So many nightmares.

You, who’s hit me so hard I could feel it almost 24 hours after it happened.

Who’s made me so anxious and so afraid that I do everything wrong.

Who’s made me feel so insignificant to the point where I feel like my closest friends despise me, even though they’ve done nothing to make me feel that way.

Who’s made me feel so hopeless at times that I’ve wanted nothing more than to lie down and never wake up.

Who’s made me feel like I’m just overreacting.

Who’s told me that my opinion is invalid and that I’m not taken seriously when I’m emotional, so therefore nothing I do or say means anything.

My brother is going through almost the same thing I am, all because of you. My youngest siblings aren’t even sure that they would miss you if we went to live with our grandparents. My youngest siblings are 10 and 9 years old. That’s not my fault, that’s your fault.

I could go on and on about all of the shit you both have done.

And then, there’s days where we’re laughing. We’re having a good time. You’re being funny. You almost seem to genuinely care. You tell me you love me. It feels like you love me, and I want to believe that with my entire being. I want these times to make all the bad times go away. I want to believe that we’re ok.

And then we’re back to normal.

There was a point in time where I was hopeless. Sometimes I still feel that way. Sometimes I feel terrified. But I still find something to be happy about every day. I still hope. I’m angry about what you’ve done, and I’m not going to just keep quiet about it anymore. And it’s gotten a little better. But it always does. And it always gets worse again.

It’s hard. It’s really hard. It’s taking a toll on me every day that is all goes by.

And there’s fear. Paralyzing fear that it’ll all go wrong. There’s doubt. I doubt that I’m going to make the right decision. I doubt my memory. I doubt my feelings. I doubt my logic. There’s guilt, though I’ve reasoned with myself and I’ve pushed it aside for the time being. There’s hope. Hope for the future. And the longing for freedom. That’s why I’m here.

And that’s what it’s like.

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