Abuse

Head of the Family

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I had to read this book for Literature class last year called “Esperanza Rising”.

I liked it, though I saw many people did not care for the main character, but to me, the story was relatable in many ways.

I’m not Mexican, nor am I an immigrant, but nonetheless, the themes of Esperanza feeling like she must support her mother and be “la patrona” reminded me of the transition I went through at 20 when my father moved out.

My sisters and I wanted him gone. We no longer felt safe with him around (I wonder now if I ever felt safe around him, even as a small child).

Still, having a parent leave was like yanking a pillar out from under us, in some ways.

My father was never the most emotional stable or mature person,so it was odd to me that him leaving shook us up so much. When he was around, he spent most of his time ignoring us and a good portion of the rest of it tormenting us for kicks or because he was taking out his frustrations of the day on whoever was available.

Not a reassuring person.

It’s strange how even a bad father can still sem like a staple of your life. Even his presence alone can change ow you feel, though he may be mostly checked out of your life.

I guess our dad controlled our household ymanic. We might have hated it, but we couldn’t avoid it.

We lived around him being home and getting around his moods and whims. He’d sometimes have family meetings whenever he wanted to change something.

Often the change didn’t last, but we had to be there. And he didn’t like to wait.

I sometimes got my way in the house by getting dad on my side, if it was something I knew he’d approve of. That’s how I got chickens and ow we go out garden started.

I really did the hard part, but my dad’s insist was what go my mom to get going on it.

My dad literally would tell me sever times that my mom had to be dragged into things “kicking and screaming”.

Not the nicst way to talk about your wife, I thought.

Me and my dad are go-getters. We are the people who initiate things.

However, a trait I had that my father seems only to have in small amounts, is the ability to plan and execute efficiently.

My father can start a basic idea, like a business, or suggest a backyard garden. And he will take some steps to bring it about. Like print fliers and canvassing from door to door, or paying for chickens or the coop etc.

But after that he’ll run out of juice. His business was always very disorganized and he struggles to find consistent help for it. He made few improvements to it over time and then wondered why he lost so much of it with the recession and other issues.

Knowing what I do now, I could probably help him fix some of it, and I’ve made some suggestions, but he is reluctant to listen to me, a 26 year old who’s never owned a business.

My Dad is very good at marketing. Whatever parts of a job involve that, he’ll excel at. He also is good at acquiring some skills of the trade.

But polishing it, and knowing how to adapt to a changing audience and methodology is not his strong point. (I’m trying to illustrate how I think I diverged from this.)

From as far back as getting a dog, I remember taking over family projects. My parents talked about getting one, but my mom wouldn’t sit down and start looking into it till I pushed for it and got my father on my side.

This started long before my father recognized the power struggle in our family was coming down to between me and him.

His words, by the way.

He later, once I was a teenager, would say I was trying to turn my sisters against him. Which wasn’t even true because for many years I barely said anything about our issues to them because he didn’t like it and I didn’t think they were on my side anyway.

When I switched churches he made me promise not to influence either of them to leave his church. I didn’t outright tell them to, but they came to me of their own accord to say they don’t like it and wanted to leave and of course, I told them to do what they thought was right but I wouldn’t say 100% to leave (keeping my word.)

But they knew what I thought and they had already agreed with it for years, so once they were old enough, they left.

After my dad moved out my mom left it too. I wasn’t surprised, I knew she didn’t like it either.

The funny thing is my dad knew all of us didn’t like his church but had no issue forcing us all to go, and even when my mom had tried to find an alternative, he manipulated her into staying by having big emotional argument about everyone going to the same church as the man of the house, or he didn’t have proper authority.

I now think this is a stuipd argument. Though it’s best if everyone goes to the same church at least while you have young kids, I think a mature family can work through it if they have slightly different preferences. As long as everyone believes in the same basic things, I really don’t care if you prefer charismatic or traditional church style.

But I digress.

Since I left first,my dad blamed me, but really if he hadn’t forced me to go in the first place, it wouldn’t have happened. And for ages after I switched, he made constant digs about me “missing a great time” at his church. And if I ever had an issue with my church, he’d say “I wouldn’t go back” after that.

He visited I once (after he had a falling out with his pastor), and didn’t like it.

Anyway, the funny part is he left his church after COVID anyway, since he didn’t agree with the Pastor so way of handling it. I didn’t agree with my pastor fully either, but I thought it wasn’t any reason to leave. I had community there.

Does this paint a picture of how my father and I are different? Good.

And why am I bringing this up?

Well, it’s complicated, but the idea I’ve circled around in the last 6 years is that once my dad moved out, even before that maybe, I was pushed into the role of head of the family.

La patrona, as the Mexicans called it in the book.

My dad left a hole in our lives that felt like a vacuum. All the energy we sent avoiding pising him off now had no object.

To be honest, for the first year, we fought with each other a lot. We were addicted to the drama and we didn’t know how to function without it. I remember a lot of the fights now as pretty stupid ones but they seemed legitimate at the time because they were similar to the ones we had with him.

My mom had a hard time keeping it together, as she became the main provider for the family (though my dad did provide some support) and had three daughters who were emotional wrecks.

I handled it better at first and then months in my physical and mental health broke down. Thankfully, by then my other two sisters were a little more recovered and were able to support me through a darker time.

Then I climbed out of that, with help from God and friends and family, and began to build my new life with other my father in it.

But even in those times, I still very much seemed to fulfill the role of head of the family.

I pushed for more and more changes. Like I started to work on de-cluttering our house, implement new systems for homeschooling my youngest sister, finding ways to organize who did what around the house.

Not all of it stuck, but we made progress.

I don’t do it alone, my sisters certainly help and my mom still does most of the financial heavy lifting.

But leading the family is not the same as providing for it. I found out. I may not contribute as much money but when anything needs to be done, I tend to be the one to push for it.

Like getting our pets taken to the vet when they clearly need it. Didn’t happen till I pushed for it.

Adopting two new cats, I pushed for it till I got my way.

And just the other week I organized my family into cleaning and organizing our garage which has been needed since we moved in, honestly, but my Grandma would never do it. And couldn’t even do it, since she can’t lift heavy stuff anymore.

My mom’s talked about it, but admitted that she probably wouldn’t have thought it out the way I did.

I came up with a strategy, to take one section per day, clear it out, sweep, dust, disinfect, and the put stuff back in a more organized way and throw out what we didn’t need, or recycle it.

After the first two days I also designated spaces for stuff we were going to take to E-waste, or hazardous waste.

I enlisted my family to help based around when they were working, since I had the week off. It was mostly between me and my sister who doesn’t have a job yet, but my mom and other sister pitched in based on their schedules and we got the thing done in 6 days, taking one day off because we were so bushed.

If you could see what it looked like before, you’d be amazed 6 days was enough. And that included moving a lot of the furniture out of it, then back in in a different order, moving some heavy cabinets and shelves to a new spot and then clearing out every spider infested corner.

It’s not a pretty looking room now, but we can walk in it, which we barely could before, and we have a lot more open space, and will have even more after we have a yard sale and get rid of the hazardous waste.

I noticed something about myself while planning and overseeing this project.

One thing is that I didn’t do it the way my dad would have.

Sure, he would have pitched the idea and insisted we do it, he probably would have even helped…but I remember how it went when we moved and the same thing happened.

Stress, tears, and a lot of arguing. Also a lot of getting mad at us girls for not helping the way he wanted.

There was some arguing this time but only because my Grandmother didn’t want to get rid of literal trash or stuff she’d never even used (and she didn’t even buy it, it was left there by other people who lived in the house).

My grandma is a hoarder, unfortunately, so that I got her to agree to let go of any of it was a small wonder in of itself.

But I have learned something that my father never did, which was that if I pitch something a certain way, I get better results.

(At least if my father knows this, he only uses it in business. With personal stuff he just scares people into submission.)

But I don’t like to do that.

So I thought my Grandma would be more willing to get rid of the stuff if it was for a yard sale, which is going to raise money to cover my car expenses.

My grandma is a kind person who will help you out if she can, but she lacks imagination.

That being said, she’s willing to help us out but often had no clue where to begin. So, I came up with this idea.

Though, we did have some arguments ensue even so…but we worked around it.

It was a lesson for me too in what my family is best suited for. If I need someone to work fast and get rid of the most stuff, my mom is better. If I need someone to sort things out with details, my younger sister is better. If I need someone to just help me move things I can’t do by myself, my middle sister is best.

And they all admitted upfront that I was the only one with a clue how to organize everything, or a vision. My mom and my middle sister are both neat people (far more than I am, ironically) but they don’t have a lot of creativity when it comes to arranging stuff efficiently.

I’ve already made lot of changes around the house that maximized our space with very little effort, and they would never have done it, but they adapted to the new arrangement with gratitude.

Makes all our lives a bit easier.

But another thing I took over(to be honest, long before my dad moved out) was emotional health.

I am the first person to pick up on if anyone is not feeling well or is upset in my household. And usually the person who jumps to do anything to comfort them.

I remember I started helped my youngest sister deal with her nightmares or fear of the dark once my mom stopped doing anything about it.

I talk to my sisters about their dreams and problems, and my mom also. They don’t always listen to my advice, but I’m there.

I’ve never considered myself to be a very sympathetic person, it’s mostly been trial and error for me to learn how to help, but I know that if I don’t pick up on it, half the time, no one else will.

Right after my dad left, I was dealing with the emotional outbursts and mood swings almost every day because my mom was at work and I didn’t currently have a job…it was not fun.

But we got through it somehow.

Now I mediate stuff even between my dad and the rest of my family…Which is the crowning irony after he made it out like I was the one turning them against him.

Which he’s never apologized for saying or taken back, I doubt he remembers saying it now.

I think I started doing this stuff when I was a teenager, maybe younger, and once my dad left, it just became official.

And running all these projects, I’ve learned to compliment them and ask for their help respectfully, instead of doing what my dad did and bossing everyone around and berating them for not doing it fast enough.

I noticed a difference between myself and my dad when my sister was doing something that I didn’t really want her to do yet, and I said “I appreciate that you’re doing this, really, but right now I need this done faster because we have limited daylight.”

And she stopped and helped me, no issues.

And the funny thing is, I didn’t even really think of it as being a different way to handle it till I remembered that my father would never have said that to any of us.

I mean literally, never could I even imagine him using that approach. It would have been: “Come help me do this” at best and angrily saying “What are you doing that for? you’re supposed to be doing this” more often.

I also made sure they had breaks and tried to overlap so that someone could rest (including myself) and someone else tagged in.

Another thing my Dad never did. He once yelled at me for being lazy and told me to get off my “ass” (his words) when I was resting from moving stuff into our new house.

And that’s just one example.

But you know, I used to be way more like that. I used to talk to my family a lot like my dad did.

Till I realized that I sounded just like him, and I began to consciously choose to be kinder and more respect.

And I found that I really felt that way.

Doing the right thing actually felt pretty easy for me, because I’ve practiced the skills of guiding people more nicely and motivating them without threats.

I think that my family agreed with me that it needs to be done, but I’ve motivated them to do stuff they didn’t think about at first also, with the same method.

I felt weird about it at first though. Like, am I managing my own family? Is that really my job?

And I realized that parents do it all the time, but since I’m not a parent, I didn’t think of it in that light.

Of course, you may think it’s kind of sad that I, the oldest child, am in this role, instead of my mother, or my father.

And if I was honest, there are times I feel like I’m not getting fair treatment. Frankly, my emotional needs are often overlooked in my household because I’m the strongest personality. If I don’t spell it out for them, they will just not notice I’m upset.

But I notice even if they don’t tell me.

The price of being the most sensitive person is that you are usually giving out more than you’re getting in many situations.

There are things they do better than me. And more of. I do have shortcomings.

But it’s not want to say I kept the family together. I don’t think any of the rest of them would have or could have done what I did. Or still do.

To the point where I worry about moving out because I wonder who will take over. I hope that by then they’ll be more independent and it wont be as necessary. I know I can’t do this forever.

Some people would probably hate it. I don’t hate it. I like feeling like I can take care of people, and like I have an important role in the house.

I do resent it sometimes. I think all of us at times feel under appreciated and like we do more than we should have to.

And I dream of a day where I could live with someone who would want to put in as much as I do. I find it hard to picture. I know that my family is just not wired that way, thanks to years of abusive cycles.

We’re still way better than we used to be…but it may never be my ideal. I may have to start my own family to make that happen.

And it’s not that I expect perfection, (in case you’re getting that idea). I expect there will be tantrums and issues and fights even if I have my own family, I know my husband and I will not always agree.

But my wish is that it will be on my terms, that I can work out things without someone shutting me down or shutting me out, and that I can know we’ll at least have the same goal. Something I’m not sure of in my current household.

The one good thing about marriage is that you do get to pick your spouse, you can choose someone who has the same vision as you, you don’t get to choose your kids or anyone else in your family except them, so you need to choose wisely.

I think it will be good practice having run my current household.

The funny thing was, my dad always said from when I was a kid that Was the most mature one. More so than him. (Red flag by the way. A parent should never say that to a kid.)

I knew it was not true probably when I was 7 or 8…by the time I was 15 it was true. And by the time I was 20, it was saddeningly true. And now, it’s almost ridiculously true.

I’ve matured so much that I don’t really need my father anymore. I don’t mean this in a defiant way. I mean that I literally don’t need him. When we talk, there is nothing at all I feel like he can tell me or do for me, expect help out a little with money, that I can’t do better myself or find a better source for.

He seems like a small person in a way to me. I think love makes people seem larger when they do it well, but when they are selfish it makes them seem small, if you’re not under their control.

Since he lost his control of my life, I’ve flourished, though I’ve made mistakes and had dark days…but I’d never go back.

He was holding me back at 20, to be honest, and he’d really hold me back now.

That is not to say I’ve abandoned my father. I don’t plan to do that…but I know it’s never going to be the same…and I hope to goodness it’s never even close.

My family is aware of my position, but they really don’t like to acknowledge it. I think, in a way, it embarrassed them that so much got put on my shoulders. They don’t often thank me for it.

I’m hurt by this sometimes, but then I remember that it’s partly because the situation is so messed up that they find it hard to talk about. They’re glad I’m there, but if they try to face it, they fear it will crumble on them. Maybe sometime they’ll be ready to talk about it.

And I really don’t want constant affirmation about it, I find it awkward to think about too.

They have surprised me too, I’m not saying it’s one sided. But the power balance always has been in my favor

My dad became a self fulfilling prophecy. He also told me I was more mature then him, it’ll it became ture. He said I was trying to take care of the same from him, until he basically handed it to me by default.

I remember that he told me “you win” when he left.

I wan’t trying to win…but I was trying to protect my sisters and my mother from what I feared was going to be the same treatment I already got, or worse. It was turning into it before he left.

I played my dad masterfully to get him out of the house, and I didn’t even do it on purpose. I think God must have guided our actions, because we just went on blind instinct and it made our dad more and more angry till he exploded at my mom enough for us to point out to her how out of control the situation was.

I have to appreciate my mom for stepping up also. She’s not always been the perfect mom, but we certainly couldn’t have done it without her and she’s at least tried to change. Which is more than my father has.

I’ve learned that you get what you get, with your family. You can wish they were different, but to be honest, don’t you think they wish you were different too?

I know that my family finds me a little too driven and too pushy for comfort…and I try to rein it in, but I can’t always go with the flow either.

Family is just a balancing act, like most things. And I’m okay with that now, I wasn’t always.

So I’ve learned to accept things and not let them ruin my happiness.

I think I sound like a much older woman than I am, because of the responsibilities I had to take up…but you know, after I listen to my generation talking about how they feel like they have no purpose,and whine about every little hardship, and lack the basic skills to manage their own lives…I think I might have been Lucky.

Maybe God used all this to spare me from becoming someone with a victim mentality…which is the worst torture of all, though they don’t see it as such while they’re in it.

Sure, I would like to play the victim card sometimes, but…I know I shouldn’t. Society makes it easy for me to, but I try not to give in.

See, on this blog I can come to show only my good side, or I could do what many people do, and gripe about my flaws and struggles only, without ever balancing it out with my success.

I don’t think either extreme is really helpful to people or realistic. We all have our Ws, and our Ls. Our highs and our lows.

My story is unique, but that doesn’t mean other people can’t see themselves in it.

I don’t know how many people could do what I did, you’d have to have the circumstances line up the right way for it.

But you can generally do something, even if it’s small, to improve your life and take some control over it.

I find little changes lead to bigger ones.

And big changes often happen very fast and feel uncomfortable, till we get used to them.

My point in all this is that becoming the head of the family is the role that I grew into because of circumstances, and then in it, I found joy and the satisfaction of learning some of my own strengths, as well as weaknesses.

So whatever your thing is, your situation, your opportunity, I encourage you to make the most of it. Often the present is just a stepping stone to the future. Even if you don’t have the opportunities you want now, you may be able to get there if you use the ones you do have.

Cliche, I know, but some cliches are true.

Until next time, stay Honest– Natasha.

That’s hard to answer…

/ toseealife / Leave a comment
Daily writing prompt
Can you share a positive example of where you’ve felt loved?
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This might sound kind of weird, but, I don’t know that I’ve ever “felt loved”.

I mean at least not by a person.

I am a Christian, and I have experienced God’s love. I think most skeptics would doubt that’s a real feeling. And since I can’t prove to them that it is, I don’t know if that counts for them.

I think there is a psychological reason for why I don’t feel human love.

I recognize love, in my mind. But there are walls up that block it from reaching my emotions.

Growing up with an emotional manipulative and abusive father, it’s not rocket science.

For my father, saying “I love you” was usually only a thing that happened when he was berating me.

It was pretty twisted in a way.

“We’re doing this because we love you, Natasha.”

And what they were doing was berating me for everything I ever did around them.

If you want the full story of how this started, keep reading. Otherwise that was my TLDR explanation.

Let me explain:

I was told I was rebellious. Even though I hardly ever broke a rule in my entire life. I’m not kidding, I barely even broke bedtime rules. I like limits and boundaries, they make me feel more balanced. I wasn’t the type to unravel them without a good reason.

But yes when I decided something wasn’t good for me or helping me anymore, I would protest it.

So when I decided I wasn’t enjoying drum lessons anymore, I said I wanted to quit. That’s where it all started.

Photo by abednego ago on Pexels.com

This was after a year long of taking them, which my father agreed on as a trial period. When I brought up to him that I didn’t want to anymore, he said “Oh you’re not gonna quit.”

Mind you, I hadn’t ever actually used the drum in a real performance, or any performance. And the only time I even tried to play along with my dad and his friends, they criticized it because it was too loud…you know, because you learn drums to play a quiet instrument.

Photo by Ketut Subiyanto on Pexels.com

Since I saw no purpose whatsoever in learning it anymore, I was miffed at my dad breaking his agreement with me.

After thinking about it, I pointed that out to him, respectfully enough, I thought. And he said fine, I could quite.

But that wasn’t the end of it.

He talked to his best friend and the friend’s wife, as well as my mom, about me wanting to quit, like it was one big crime.

I couldn’t understand why they cared so much. Since I wasn’t using the drum for anything, what did it matter?

But it turned into a whining session where his friend aired some other grievances about me that I had no idea he had.

Apparent’y, I made some joke during one of his music lesson with one of my sisters. Just about tomato sauce. That was it. I didn’t even really direct it at him, just made a joke about the ingredients in tomato sauce. He was deeply offended.

Now, as an adult who has taught a class, I completely could understand why he might have been annoyed that I interjected while he was teaching.

However, as an adult who teaches 10-11 year olds, I would expect that behavior from that age group, without it really being malicious. And I was only 12 at the time of this conversation.

A 12 year old interrupting to make a joke isn’t , in my mind, a big deal. If it happened to me, I would have simply given the kid a warning, explained why it was disrespectful, and left it at that. If they didn’t do it again, I wouldn’t even tell the parents because who the heck really cares that much?

Apparently, my dad’s best friend.

Now he never said a word to me about this, oddly enough, nor did he ask my mom to talk to me about it delicately.

I didn’t hear about it till this big confrontation with 4 adults, all of whom told me I was a brat, disrespectful, and not nice to other people.

At the time, I also took singing lessons from this best friend’s wife.

She didn’t like me much because I couldn’t stand still while I sang. And I got tired easily. Also I didn’t like the music choices that she insisted on. She didn’t ever teach us any songs we actually got to pick, and when I asked if we could learn any songs I actually knew and liked, she said no because they were pop songs.

I guess it was her right as a teacher not to teach it if she didn’t like it, but she really shouldn’t have expected me to be interested in learning if it was all music I didn’t care about. I’m pretty sure music teachers in actual public school pick at least some songs the kids like.

I found out years later that the reason I can’t stand up easily is I have uneven legs, so I tilt to one side when I stand (good think my name isn’t Eileen), and I have a more curved spine than usual and a curved tailbone, making it hard to stand straight for long periods of time. I have gotten a bit better with some chiropractic treatment and exercises to improve my core, but it’s never been easy for me to move the same as other people, and it probably never will be unless the problem is resolved. Which is unlikely.

So she got mad at me for something I couldn’t help. and I told her and my mom that I just got tired and didn’t feel right standing.

The crazy thing is, you can sing sitting down. It wouldn’t have been a big deal. Sure it’s better to stand,but I wasn’t going to be doing any Broadway musical, it would have been fine for me to sit while learning. She sat while teaching me.

Even moving around, which was still easier for me than standing because I could at least shift balance, she wouldn’t allow.

I suppose, maybe it’s not her fault that she didn’t know I had a real problem and just thought I wasn’t listening to her. But the issue is, she never even considered any alternative explanation other than I was trying to be defiant.

Well, to be fair, after she got on my nerves with this crap for weeks on end, I was trying to be defiant. But it didn’t start off that way. If sh’e d been nice to me, I wouldn’t have wanted to act out. But she did all this from the start, when I wasn’t trying to do anything to set her off.

I know, not the most mature thing–but I was 12 years old. 12 year olds aren’t mature. Even so the worst I did was probably roll my eyes and act bored, which is rude, but hardly the kind of rebellion I would think would warrant a four person intervention.

Again, no one just sat me down and talked to me about this in a normal way first. Which is my first recourse as child care provider myself. I always gives kids a warning before I jumped to a full lecture. If they ignore the warning, then I know they’re blowing me off. But if they don’t, then they were just being kids with short attention spans who don’t know social etiquette yet. I make allowances. It’s not like every kid is going to be able to figure this out intuitively.

Anyway, to get back to how this tied into love.

During this dialogue we were having, which felt more like a one sided monologue to me, they were criticizing pretty much everything about me.

Even at the time I didn’t think it made a lot of sense, 4 adults, two of whom I didn’t really know that well, and barely talked to the one, and my parents, all criticizing me.

I’m now very against this approach in practice. I think most people with experience with kids or even teenagers would be. Two people is about the limit for any confrontation with a kid that’s not a medical emergency, I’d say, without it feeling like you’re bullying the kid. I’ve seen kids cry over less, as it is.

Oh and I was crying through most of the conversation. Do you think they stopped? Do you think they tried to comfort me and get me to calm down?

Nope.

Tey told me I shouldn’t cry anymore.

And my singing teacher even picked apart the way I was sitting as being a defensive psotiosns.

Can’t imagine why I would have feel the need to protect myself , under the circumstances.

Now that I’m experienced enough to know how weird this situation was , I’m amazed my mom didn’t see it that way. But I figure my father probably bullied her into it, as he usually did.

The icing on the cake of all this was that one thing I was getting in trouble for was something my dad told me to do, and though I even expressed doubt about doing it to him, he said it would be fine. So I did it.

It was not fine.

He conveniently had forgotten he told me to do it. He admitted to it during the confrontation.

Do you think they stopped? Do you think they apologized to me for the mistake? Do you think they admitted it wasn’t fair?

Not in my memory. But I have blocked out a lot of it, I could be wrong…I do know it wouldn’t be in character for them to do it. I can’t recall either of the other two adults ever admit they were wrong.

My dad would only admit he was wrong about imagined things, not real things. Go figure.

The part that made this about love, much to my dismay both now and then, was that they claimed this entire humiliating experience was done out of love.

Yeah…it really felt like being torn apart for 2-3 hour staring was an act of love.

In the end, though, I did still quit the drum. I find it funny that the thing that set this off was still something I won about. Yet, I feel like I lost more than I gained from the experience.

I’m not sorry now I quit drum, it wasn’t for me. I’m not even sorry I took singing lesson, I enjoy singing. Granted, I hated taking them for that woman, but I did like learning it and I like knowing a bit about it now.

I do still wish she’d taught me how to sing different styles than she did so I could have used it more widely, but them’s the brakes.

Of course one incident might not have given me a complex about love, though for some people that might be enough to do it, but I’m a reasonable person, and I was even as a teen, though less so then, of course.

Still, I could have probably put together that that wasn’t right, if my dad hadn’t reinforced it over and over again.

But pretty much any time my dad and I were alone for longer than 10 minutes he’d start up on the subject again. Bring up every example they had, remind me that his two friends,and even their family, didn’t like me. Say I was a lot like a narcissist.

The funny part is my dad is the the actual narcissist, or has BPD. One of other or both, maybe. I now know it’s common to project your own toxic traits onto someone else, I don’t know that at 12, of course.

Always though, my dad would end or begin or interject into the middle of these lectures, that this was done in “love.”

I’m a very sensitive woman. I always have been. I won’t say verbal abuse is worse than physical abuse, both suck.

But to a sensitive person, it was devastating to hear this so many times.

I’m not a meek type of girl though. I fought back.

But since fighting back, both the first time,and every time after that, never got my anywhere, it created this complex where I feel like nothing I do will ever change people’s minds about me, and I expected them to dislike me, secretly, even if I’m not aware of doing anything to them to cause it.

I expected that for many years every time I met any new person.

Unfortunately, the world had a lot of touchy people in it, and sometimes, I got proven right. I’m sure my insecurities didn’t help with that, since insecure people tend to do things to tick others off anyway, but sometimes it really just came out of nowhere.

The unlucky times my dad got involved, he would usually agree with whoever it was. Even if it was the Sunday school teacher beefing with me for causing problems just by sitting in her class doing nothing.

My sister was there too. They don’t call her in for questioning. She didn’t even know what I did, to this day, I don’t know. But I know my dad was always ready to agree with anyone who had a problem with his daughter. Didn’t matter how unbalanced that person was to begin with.

All the little things my dad did to sabotage my life, but they added up.

I can’t of course, lay the blame for everything at his feet. Some of it was my fault. Some of it was other people’s besides my dad’s.

But the person who twisted the knife every time by calling it love, that was my dad.

I’ve never had people comment on how little I seem to be able to receive love.

Because when someone says that word, I flinch sometimes, inwardly.

I actually prefer if people use words like “I care about you” or “I appreciate you” because they ton’d set me off the same way. My dad certainly would never use words like that.

But “proud for you” is a trigger too, because he used that also.

It never meant anything. I figured out years in that he didn’t mean it. And I figured out also that even if I had done something to be proud of, he would have meant it. He didn’t think that way.

Pride in us wasn’t about what we did, or even about us being his kids, it was always about what he thought we wanted to hear to do what he wanted.

See, some people just never give love, and that’s bad enough.

Other people use love as reward for good behavior, and that’s just as bad, or maybe worse.

The type of person really talk about is the kid who uses love as a motivation if and when threats aren’t working. Just so you can be both scared, and then feel guilty for being scared.

Gas lighting at another level.

Thanks to this, I can’t feel love easily.

I won’t say it’s impossible. I feel love for other people. It’s easier when it children, people who don’t scare me.

That’s what got me, truth didn’t help. Truth is very important to me. If I assume something about someone, and alt er find out a fact about them that calls that into question, I actually changed my mind. I can’t imagine not doing that. But there are many people who will never change their mind, no matter what the truth is.

It’s hard to realize that when you’re not that kind of person.

But I’ve learned to let it slide off my back more.

I’m not writing this to say that my dad ruined my life. Or even that he ruined my relationships. I have good relationships with some of my family. And I have friends. I’m learning to get better at all this.

I hope one day to have a good marriage–which I will probably get counseling for, but that’s just good sense.

And a good relationship with my own children, if God grants me them like I hope.

But I’m not going to lie about my life and say all this didn’t matter or have some effect. Admitting it mattered actually is part of healing.

So it did matter and it is sad. Even saying that took me years to get to. I’m glad for the people along the way, here and there, who did take my side and tell me that that wasn’t normal to go through that.

I had a very good grandmother who would sympathize with me, she was still there for me when my parents weren’t. I had a good youth leader who helped me see at least some of what my dad did was wrong years before I could go to therapy to her the same thing.

I wasn’t always alone. I was just alone too much for it to be good.

But we take what we get in life, and I see no point complaining about it. I think we get what we need ultimately if we seek it, but not always the way we imagine it.

I’ve still never really had father figure other than God. But God has been enough, I know that will sound weird to the person who’s not a Christian, but it is what it is. Think I’m crazy if you want, I really don’t care. Until you have a better cure for broken hearted and lonely people, I don’t really think I’ll swap out mine.

I hope that I will learn to like the word “love” when people say to me again.

I think all this came to mind not just because of the prompt, but because of a thing one of my friends, who is a very blunt person (too much like me probably) said to me at my birthday party.

She pointed out: “Look how loved you are.”

I was thinking that it was nice of them all to show up. And I thought she was right, they were trying to show love.

Yet, when she said it, I felt nothing expect probably confused.

Like I usually feel when someone says that. Or uncertain. Maybe it’s fear, maybe it’s just doubt. Maybe they’re the same thing at bottom.

If I accept that, then how will I handle it when they end up doing the wrong thing to me, or leaving me? As everyone will, sooner or later.

Unfortunately for the person who has “avoidant attachment” disorder, as one therapist told me (he was an ass though, but he might have been right about that–he didn’t help me with the problem though), the fact is that being separated from the people you love is inevitable.

It’s hard enough for a healthy person to accept loss and grief. It’s harder if you’re someone like me who has had very little chance to even feel loved at all, so any short stint of it that will be taken away again feels cruel.

I have learned however, that often we’re more loved than we see.

And that the way I interpret love is not always the way people show it. A lot of stuff is just not communicated right.

And recently, I had an ordeal that my friends did not exactly make me feel better about. Doing a lot of the same things that set me off–but I didn’t blow up at them.

I was a bit upset, but I didn’t lash out at them because I knew, at least in my head, that they meant well and were trying to help.

While I would rather actually feel better, I do at least derive some sense of comfort for the fact that I have people who will attempt to help me, even if they don’t succeed. Having grace for people is important.

And that’s a huge stride for me, from where I started from.

So if you related to this post at all, I can tell you that it’s small things like that are along the path to health.

I don’t have it all figured out yet, but I know that at least being able to treat people with some degree of trust, even if you have doubts and anxieties, is the only way to start.

It might take years for me to feel it the way others do. I can be mad about that– or I can accept it and keep trying.

Maybe this is my favorite Naruto characters are Sai and Gaara. Both characters who pretty much embody the journey of learning to feel things again and feel them the right way.

Or my favorite author is C. S. Lewis, who wrote that it was important to be able to feel the right way about things, to be a whole and happy person. [It’s in the “Abolition of Man” book.]

If you met me in person, you might not even guess this about me. My friends have told me they wouldnt’ have before I told them.

I take that good sign. I’ve worked enough on the issues I have are not all obvious. That’s progress. They used to be blatantly obvious to people, based on what they told me.

I’m not a closed off person in every way either.

I guess my point in all this it is to say that these issues don’t define me, and they don’t define you either. You can have issues like this and still be a loving person. So they make you more loving because you over-compensate, in fact.

But I think you can never been too loving, so it’s a win-win. Sometimes broken stuff can be fixed to be stronger than it was naturally. Like when they cut off the trunk of trees to graft in a stronger trunk, but keep the old root system. (They can do that with fruit trees, did you know that?). You gotta know what to keep and what to throw away.

Photo by Tom Swinnen on Pexels.com

I think that’s in Ecclesiastes actually.

Well this got pretty long for a daily prompt post, so I think I’ll end it here. I hope some of this was encouraging, since it was kind of raw and heavy for this kind of post, but it was where my mind went, as as you know my motto is to keep it honest.

So until next time, stay honest–Natasha.

It wasn’t memorable for the same reasons as you’d expect.

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Daily writing prompt
Think back on your most memorable road trip.
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Several years ago my family went on a road trip to Wyoming to visit relatives.

That was the last road trip I went on with my father.

That was the one he punched me on.

Only in the arm, but, it was still a violation of trust. He threatened to do worse if I ever hit him again.

I hit him because he walked in on my in the bathroom, deliberately, and then just laughed instead of apologizing. Acing like a middle schooler (no I’ve know middle schoolers who were more polite).

I’m not defending my actions per sec, I still probably shouldn’t have done that (though if it was any other guy doing the same thing my father would have been fine with it). I guess I thought if he’s going to act like a creep, I’d treat him like one.

But that logic didn’t go over well with my family.

Still, my dad retaliated too much. He hurt me when he hit me back, and he could hit harder than I could. Also, he hit me twice. But it wasn’t really the phsyical pain that bothered me, it was that he did it at all. Something my mom always said he’d never do, though he’d threatened to plenty of times.

My dad had a nasty temper, and the thing I realized was it didn’t matter if you could argue I deserved it (which is what my aunt basically said). My dad got mad over stupid things all the time, even if this time it was valid, if he’d hit me over this, he’d do it when it wasn’t valid too.

I was scared of him getting that angry again–but then I always was scared of his anger.

I didn’t know at the time hat that kind of fear shouldn’t be the kind your father inspires in you.

That with a safe man, you wouldn’t even be able to picture them hitting you even if they were angry.

There are men I know like that, but my father was not one of them. Not from when I was a little kid.

The next year, when they all went on a road trip, I stayed home. Best decision I made where that was concerned.

By the year after that, my father had moved out. Actually, it was right after their trip. Where I heard there was plenty of drama that I was happy I missed, no doubt I’d have ended up in the middle of it.

Something died between me and my dad on the trip though. Maybe if he’d let it be a wake up call, and had tried to change, and fix things after that, it could have recovered.

But instead he blamed me for what happened, claiming he “didn’t know what else to do” since I “never respected him”.

Even though the entire incident was started by him disrespecting me.

But my dad is good at gas lighting.

My father wasn’t often physically abusive. That incident was the closest he came to it, usually he didn’t do more than yank me out of chairs or rooms he wanted to be in, and threaten to hit me if I talked to him the way I did.

But since it had gotten worse over time, I had a feeling it would just keep getting worse till it became a consistent thing, if we pushed him enough. We all walked down eggshells around him because of that.

My life got much better once he moved out (really we made him move out).

I’ve shared the story on this blog before, more while it was happening, in fact, but, I doubt most of my new followers have read those posts, so sharing it again after all this time is probably a good idea for context.

There’s too much to really tell the rest, though.

I’ve had good road trips since that time, and I hope I will remember them for years to come, but it’s probably not up for debate that that one is the most memorable.

I’m likely to remember it till my dying day unless I get dementia in my old age.

I’m not really sad or mad about it now, it just reminds me of why we did what we did, and why it needed to be done.

I hope other people had more pleasant memories for this prompt though.

–Natasha

So I called my dad after nearly 3 years…

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I keep trying to post and then getting distracted…go figure.

But I’ve had a lot going on, trying to enter a writing contest, finishing books, working, trying to finish my school courses, and planning a vacation.

But excuses aside, I do have something a bit more unusual to post about.

Those of you who’ve read my older posts from the last four years probably recall that I had the experience of ending an abusive situation, in a very unusual way, and have been dealing with the repercussions of that, therapy, and trying to build new relationships.

I’ve said before that I don’t hate my father, but I do not know where the future will take us.

This month, I finally decided to do something I’ve been thinking about for probably nearly 3 years, and call him.

I haven’t talked to him since he tried to use a family memorial to manipulate my sympathy with, and since we talked to him when he had a mild heart attack. I’ve thought about it, but just couldn’t bring myself to yet. I didn’t feel secure in not being dragged back into that cycle.

Often people do reconcile with their family after splitting, and they mention that it happened, but very few talk about how the process went in detail, I thought maybe my impression after it might be useful to someone.

My Dad is not the kind of abusive that makes the news and shocks people, though it does surprise some people I’ve spoken to, so talking to him is not really dangerous for me to do, just awkward.

But my past with him was not all bad memories, though it was certainly very few good ones after a certain age.

I can’t explain what really went wrong on his end, or what he really thinks, I’m not sure he even knows.

But for me, I decided it wasn’t something I wanted to deal with or be responsible for anymore.

But I didn’t want to be that girl who never talks to her father either because of old resentments.

I’ve met people like that. People have said repeatedly to protect myself and that I don’t owe him anything. My family, aside from his relatives, have mostly not put pressure on me to reconnect.

So with a clear head, I knew I was making this choice for myself, but I was never against it one day.

I think at some point you have to choose what you want. Our current culture glorifies cutting people off and not giving them second chances. It glories self love–and we have a loneliness and mental health epidemic.

It’s not very biblical, but I’ve heard Christians say the same things.

The Bible does warn us that in the last days (any day after Christ’s ascension), sin will abound and love for many people will grow cold.

Sins ares so easy to see, with our media, that peopl allow it to kill love before it has time to even really mature.

I don’t regret making the choice to try to still love my dad even in the years he was making me miserable, deliberately. The fact is, loving him despite that was what gave me any power to not be ruined by his attitude. He didn’t make me into another version of himself, because I chose to forgive and stay open to love, though I was scarred and I have had ot unlearn a lot of habits.

That said, I was hesitant to call him because I knew from watching and listening to other people in m situation, that contact with the person in the cycle is the most likely thing to pull you back into it. It’s like people have their own relational gravity, that pulls you either up or down the scale of bad to good behavior.

But I’ve gotten more and more upbeat and somewhat more confident in the last couple years, and I thought it might be time to test how much I had changed.

I want to be honest with you all reading this. I won’t sugarcoat it and I won’t exaggerate how bad it was either. All I have is my honest thoughts of what happened.

Perhaps the drama queens reading this will be disappointed to know there was nothing explosive about our conversation.

He was teary at first, then we spent most of it talking about our lives, and the only really serious thing I wanted to say was that if I was going to keep in touch, I didn’t want to waste any time fighting, or arguing.

I also told him I’m not looking for apologies. I just want to talk about normal stuff and see how it goes.

I think most people who have been through this will get it, but to those who haven’t who might wonder why I don’t want to hear the words “I’m sorry”, let me explain:

My dad is a textbook narcissistic abuser. He’s emotionally manipulative in the way that messes with your head. Who knows if it’s intentional or not at this stage, I think someone as old as him might have been this way so long they can’t tell the truth anymore–I hope so. If he does it knowingly, that’s just worse.

But what this means is that periodically for me, growing up, and for my mom long before that, he would make a big confession to either her or us all as a family, of how he knew he’d been doing all these things wrong, and he would admit his flaws (usually he’d be on point about them), and say he was going to try to change.

As a Christian, he would also say God convicted him about it.

I note now, looking back, that he never said it was by the grace of God that he could change, which is a red flag for a Christian, to think our own effort will be enough.

The first time he did this where I could hear him, I thought he meant it. I soon learned that he didn’t.

Fast foward to now, he told me the same things over the phone.

He did seem older, and more tired than in the past, but then, he could do that before. Most of my big memories of him are him yelling at me, but he could be contrite too. It felt weird to be on the receiving end of it though.

I told my sisters afterward, who are used to this also, that I knew better than to buy it because if he had me under his power again, I knew it would be the same as before, or worse even. What he would do to me to make me pay for all this, I can only imagine.

But if I don’t put myself in that position with him, I probably have nothing to fear. As long as I have control of this interaction, he will probably be respectful.

But the question is, if I don’t believe it’s genuine, and I can’t trust him, what is the point of us talking at all?

I’m also well aware that his family has a history of not speaking to each other for a long time, and then crawling back and pretending to reconcile, only to fight and argue again

So I could be part of a repetitive cycle here if I’m not careful. The whole thing is a mine field.

So why bother then?

I’m still working on answering that. But I do think one part of it is, just shutting down and cutting off is the kind of thing he would do to me, and I don’t want to be the same.

At the end of it all, I don’t want to be the one they said didn’t try or didn’t give it her A-game. I believe in love and forgiveness, not spite and grudgeholding. It’s not about my dad deserving that from me, it’s about wanting to be the kind of person who goes above what is deserved.

I may never get what I want, but I don’t want that to be because I didn’t try.

I do not think just distance alone will change this relationship, I think you have to build new inroads, and redefine how you do things, if you really want change.

It’s a two way street, I’m not saying I intend to bend over backwards to get his approval, I don’t think I’m even trying to get his approval much now. I suppose I still wish he was pleased with me, it’s only natural to wish that, but his praise doesn’t mean anything to me. He’s proven too many times that it will evaporate as soon as he gets angry about anything.

However, what does concern me is the amount of temptations that popped up in my mind in the two weeks after talking to him, three weeks now, to rehash the past. I was willing to leave it alone while I wasn’t talking, but now that I have, I think of all the things I wanted to say to him over the years, and couldn’t.

And I now know are unwise to say. Don’t cast your pearls before swine. It’s not much good giving someone wisdom that they won’t listen to, or will twist into something else.

People write about telling off abusers, and that’s cathartic–until you try it. The bible warns us that anger towards an angry or evil person just makes them worse, and that is true. I had moments of standing up for myself in the past, and my dad would seem to listen briefly, but then it would be gone a few days later and he’d double down.

So what can I say or do that has any meaning? At first, I just wanted to be able to have a civil conversation. Can I get carried away and hope to restore decades of lost relationships?

No, I’m not God.

So what is my part here? I don’t know.

I can’t lie and say this is an easy situation. When you’re dealing with someone who can’t even meet you in the middle, because they have no idea what that middle is, it’s tricky. You don’t want to carry the burden on your own shoulders, but you know that they won’t carry an equal amount. That’s not even how love really works.

I realize, writing this, that this affects my perception of my life overall. I often ask myself if what I’m doing makes any real difference, because, like with my Dad, I don’t get to see any results. I can try, and try, and never know if a thought even sticks in someone else’s mind.

And even if I’m told it did, I don’t believe it, because my dad would tell me that, and then contradict it a few days later.

As you can imagine, I have serious trust issues because of that double sided aspect of him.

So why open myself up to that again?

It’s not easy, and it’s not something I would do in large doses, but at a smaller level, is it worth it to try?

Maybe just for personal satisfaction. My dad will not be around forever. When he passes on, do I want to have a clear conscience that he had every chance I could give him to be a better dad?

Not that I need his help, now. That’s not what this is about. But someone needs a way to redeem themselves sometimes, or they will never dare to try. And I think people should get a chance to try, if they truly want it.

I can’t say if he does, but is that my call to make? As a human with limited perception?

Those are the questions that keep me from calling it quits entirely. Not that I would be open to more abuse. But in a safer zone, I would be open to some redemption or reconciliation of some nature happening.

Another reason I have is just that, in situation like this, where you have generations of cycles to break, you won’t change a thing by doing nothing. Taking myself out of it is something that protects me, but not anyone else. Trying to change it has the potential to stick with someone, maybe it won’t be my dad. But maybe it’s something someone else in the family could look at, and say “I don’t want ot keep doing this crap either. I’d rather just stop the cycle of abuse. And resentment.

I’m still learning about this. I can’t tell you all it will work out for sure. And if it doesn’t, I think I will be honest about that.

But there are things that haven’t been tried yet, that could be tried, before I just assume that it won’t work. And if those don’t work, then I know for sure.

The Bible says that love endures all things and hopes all things, and it never fails. That doesn’t mean that you will never see someone fail in learning to love. That happens.

But I believe it means, that when you make love your protection and shield and your way of life, it will never fail to change your life and make it better. You may fail to get through tos oem people who have hard hearts, but you will not become like them. And most of us fear being the bad guy even more than we fear what the bad guy can do to us. We don’t want to be poisoned by our past.

I am not perfect, but I can tell you all today, that in the last few years, I have vastly changed how I approach people, how I love them, and I’ve learned to let a lot of things go that used to irritate me for a long time. I tripped over a lot of things at first, but I kept pressing towards love, and gradually, I began to be more graceful with it.

I would also like to tell anyone who is thinking about making this journey a few things:

1. You will not get a lot of encouragement from the world. People will tell you you’re wasting your energy trying to be loving towards the unlovely. And if you are leaving yourself wide open for pain, that’s not okay–but if you’re just remaining soft, and not bitter or vindictive, that’s your choice. Don’t listen to anyone who tells you to get even or to cut people off who you can safely still be around, but they think you shouldn’t bother with.

2. The anger does go away. I’ve not only stopped feeling angry at my dad, and many other people, over what happened; but I’ve stopped getting angry as easily in general because of the choice to forgive and try to set a better pattern. You may feel the anger never stops, but it can. And I’m naturally a grudge holder, so trust me, if I can change that, you can.

3. The pain does get better. I’ve been through it, the depression, anxiety, fear that my life will be ruined, the aching from not being loved or treated well. And it does come back, sometimes, still. But it’s not everyday, and it’s not overpowering. I also have learned to see signs of love where I did not before, and to see people mean well, even when I don’t feel a connection with what they are saying. I’m also more okay with feeling pain now, as long as it’s clean sadness, and not bitterness. I’m okay with crying about a movie where there’s a father who’s more kind and loving than mine has ever been, and letting that make me more aware of what I want and what I seek in God, instead of resenting that I didn’t have it in earth. But that is also a choice and it took a while to feel that way.

4. You will embarrass yourself. This is a hard one for me. I hate looking like I don’t know something…but, the reality is, I don’t know naturally, that much about healthy love. I have to learn it step by step, and at times, it’s extremely awkward to be around much more open people, and to not be able to be that way with them. People with better families than I, who sometimes think I’m cold, because I have no clue how to respond to them. and sometimes, I say things that I think sound normal, only to find that my toxic family dynamic treated as normal what other people think is rude, harsh, cruel, or inappropriate. But, that also gets better. I have learned a lot. I’m still out of my depth sometimes, but I am learning bit by bit. I pray that one day I will be where I want to be, or at least a lot better than I am now.

5. It takes time. I’ve said this with the others, but it’s something I have to remind myself a lot. I wish it was a fast process, but relearning love and life, it takes years. I’ve had 4 years. I think I’ve done well in that amount of time, but it takes most people 10 or more years to really see the kind of life they want, I think. Depending on the person. I’ve also had to do a lot alone, though I’ve had help sometimes. It varies from day to day. And I’ve had to learn to be okay with not always having help, but sometimes saying I need it.

So, now that I’ve admitted all that, do I eel better?

Not really. Dwelling on this stuff is the best way to psych yourself out, which is why I don’t want to write about it too much till I’ve had more time to get self control. Controlling my mood about this stuff has taken a really long time, and it still goes up and down when I get stressed.

But I can thank God I’m in a much better frame of mind about all this than I used to be. And I snap out of it much faster when I do get in a funk. Everyone gets in a funk sometimes, but we don’t have to stay there.

So, yeah, for how it went, I’d say about as well as could be expected, and I’ll see where it goes. But that people should take caution about the kinds of temptations that will pop up when you stir up old memories, just because it starts you thinking about the past again.

So with encouragement and caution, I think I’ll wrap this post up, until next time, stay honest–Natasha.

Final Flames–A Million in Vermillion

Transphobic

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I watched a video this morning by a Christian Lady saying that this whole Trans craze is the reason she’s finally pulling her kids out of school and homeschooling them.

Hurray!

I was homeschooled all up till college. I do have trouble making friends, but it beats not having a brain.

Not that there aren’t some very smart kids in Public school, the problem is the systme istelf sucks the IQ out of these kids as fast as possible.

I learned something from this video that I should have realized before, I just never had gone to school enough to know it.

The schools slip this LGBT+ whatever stuff ito the curriculum because they clasify is as “anit-bullying” training

See, a very powerful lie because it’s mized with a small amount of truth, alwasy the most effective.

Sure, you can point to the whole pride community and say “They do get bullied”

True…but every community gets bullied. I don’t care who you are, you just have to live around jerks who are from a different circle, or be in the minority in your neighborhood.

The lady made an excellent point, that no other kind of bullying is the solution to pressure everyone else into being this thing.

Just about everyone mainstream had a label in the Pride community now, just because it makes them cool. Just ike everyone has a mental illness.

Humans are infamous for promoting trends that are unhealthy to ourselves, without knowing it. But I never thought I’d see the day, even in my short life, where promoting being unhealthy itself would be popular.

What the heck?

I have a cousin who’s already fallen under this spell, who was always a very normal girl before she got Tiktok. But, of course, she wants to fit in.

The kid is too young to drive, but according to the YouTube lady, that doesn’t mean she can’t get hormones and change her pronouns, without parental consent.

It’s bizarre and insane, you have to get parental consent to treat kids in the freaking Emergency room just in case you give them something they are allergic to, but you don’t have to get it to give them body altering hormones?

That’s nuts.

Even parents who support the rights of this community have an issue with this, but the kids are being taught to ignore their parents, to see them as the enemy if they don’t support this.

I see no real doubt about this being a cult, but I didn’t understand how it got slipped into school so fast until the anti-bullying connection was made for me, now I get it.

Because I hear kids defends this so vehemently, the way they’d say it’s not right to bully someone else, and they never stop to think that maybe it’s not the same thing, because a kid doesn’t understand the nuances between preventing bullying and pushing an agenda.

Hey, China did this once. They said everyone should stop being bullied by the oppressive landlords. Anyone who owned land and wealth had to be stropped of it.

So they made their whole population poor, and completely dependent on the government, which was pretty broke also, and just the most high ranking people had wealth. People turned on each other, because there was no need for proof, you just had to make an accusation. All the most spiteful people are in charge in a society like that.

It didn’t end well for China.

It’s not rocket science to most of us that all this is not going to end well, but how do we stop it?

I figure that in some ways, it can’t be stopped. AS long as parents are willing to allow it, some kids are bound to be victimes of it.

Homeschooling is the best option, to be sure, but not everyone can do it. Still one could pay for a tutor, or try a different kind of school.

But it’s not just schoool, it’s the internet.

No kid should have a tiktok, that’s just common sense. They don’t need to be exposing themselves on line to people when they can’t even legally sign an information release form yet, not that hard to figure out.

I didn’t start my YouTube channel till I was 17 or 18 I think, and I never gave personal information out on it.

I know I’m not saying anything new here, but we just need as many people to be saying it as possible. To do our best to have a counter movement.

But in answer to the guy who commented asking why people feel the need to prove themselves right, and they can’t just live and let live.

This is why, Sir. This freaking crap is why!

Because when we give up trying to prove ourselves right, you know who takes the hit? It’s not us, not right away, not the adults. It’s the kids. They don’t get a choice. They don’t know any better.

And if we adults who do are too lazy, cowardly, or indifferent to speak our piece to these other people and contest them, they will own our kids. Literally, before too long.

It won’t be long before even being an adult won’t be any protection anymore, at this rate. But let’s talk about htat.

I know people at my college who will applaud slipping this propaganda into everything, because they don’t think.

You see, if we thought about it, would we relaly beokay with this?

I know exaclty how it works.

People may call me transphobic for not agreeing with this, but I prefer to think of it as Pride-phobic. I am terrified by anyone exulting pride as something we all should be aiming for. Pride is deadly.

Hubris is the deadly Pride that says “I can do better than God/gods” depending on what religion you are, but it’s pride in oneself and their own wisdom above everything else.

Playing God, we call it.

I can’t think of any more blatant example of this than saying you can change the gender someone was born with, especially before they are old enough to understand what that truly means.

Some people say that doctors play God, to be sure, in some cases.

Yeah, that might be true…so change the laws there, but that doesn’t justify letting kids make these choices, or letting mentally unstable people make them either.

Now if a stable, grown adult wants to transition, I may disagree, but I wouldn’t stop them, because the y have the right to choose what they will do. They have the right to choose to do anything…and reap the consequences.

But that’s not the majority of cases here, that’s the problem.

I know why people take isue with sotpin it.

They say that whatever negative things happen it’s still important to promote this because these people need to feel accepted and loved.

That sounds good.

Until…

Think about it, what culture has ever had trure and complete acceptance of every kind of person?

That would be zero.

But the ones that got closest were the Nazis.

Yeah you could be from any background, if you join the nazi party you were in. You were the cool kids.

All you had to do was be willing to crush anyone outside the party who was in your way. Anyone who as not Germany,or anyone who was German but was loyal to the enemy, that is tot say, the people you were murdering en masse.

Some people will say Gitler wasn’t evn worn now.

I heard the Whoopi Goldberg even said that the Holocaust wasn’t about Race.

I guess all those books the Germans wrote about superior genetics being in the German line, and all that propaganda they put out about black people (you know, ones like Whoopi Goldberg) and Jews was all about something other than race.

I can’t imagine what it would be, if not race, must be something only enlighten people like Goldberg know.

I remember the Rwanda Holocuast really united the country, as long as you weren’t Tutsi. And as long as you didn’t look Tutsi, even if you were Hutu, you were fine.

Yeah…you know mass acceptance comes at a price. Because when people are individuals, some of them will not fit in, they will not be accepted, so you have to sacrifice your individuality in order to be accepted.

Put on their label, dye your hair, wear the make up, wear your pride sticker. Now you’re cool.

But if you want to do anything for yourself, without putting that label on it you can’t get away from it.

Remember that gay ice skater in the Olympics a few yeas ago. The news couldn’t get enough of him, though he was not the best skater in the team, and the one who was didn’t get interview as much. (And I mean by the scores, he wasn’t the best, not my personal opinion).

I really would care if a gay man was the best ice skater, because to me being gay and having talent are two things that have nothing to do with each other, why would they? Does being straight give you talent? No? Does sex give you talent period? No.

But he gets attention just for that.

You know it kind of sucks even if you are gay, because you may have hobbies that you’d like to get acclaim for, and you’ll never know if people are just praising you because you’re gay, or because you’re talented. Since the general public really can’t recognize talent and skill that well to begin with, that makes it even worse. Charisma goes a long way with the masses, but if you say you’re gay, that’s an automatic win.

A lot of people are milking it on purpose to get famous, or more famous, Like Demi Lovato.

But if you genuinely do feel gay, you may not really want that to be all there is to you. I read an article by someone like that once in college.

And it’s sad. Really. Talent is talent, whoever has it, shouldn’t it be acknowledged as such?

I’ve watched a gay youtuber for years now, because he has talent. But sadly, he has leaned more and more into using his gay label to make content, instead of actually using his creative talents to do it. He used to be real clever, but he doesn’t need to be now. He’s got talent still…but he no longer needs to use it, so he doesn’t.

That’s going to happen to kids right and left at this rate. Why be a scientist if you can get famous by being a sexual orientation, it’s not like that takes work.

I saw this ad for a new show where this Trans person is saying that they hate it when people say they are brave for transition so young, and someone replies “its not brave to be who you are.”

While I wholly disagree with the premise of that sentiment, it’s interesting in one way.

By their own logic, why is this anything to applaud? If it’s just who they are, that’s like applauding someone for liking the color blue. What does my merits as a person have to do with it? Nothing.

Some of them will say t his.

The thing is, the people who are getting into this because it’s popular are really the ones who will ignore that.

Nevermind if it actually hurts the exact people you’re trying to help.

A gay person might like to write a play about something other than being gay, you know, just for once. But they aren’t allowed to, are they? Name one, I’ll wait.

Anyway, I need to wrap this up.

In short, I think pushing this agenda is hurting the gay and whatever else is in the spectrum people just as much as anyone else, and it’s hurting kids too.

And before we decide to ride this train because everyone else is doing it, we should ask if we want to be responsible for that kind of damage.

Until next time, stay honest–Natasha.

Does Christianity work on me?

/ toseealife / Leave a comment

Hey fahm.

You know, I never talked like that before I liked Camie’s character in mha, it’s funny how you can change how you talk based on things like that.

Well, I think it’s fun to have more of an accent anyway.

How’s everyone doing? I know I haven’t updated this blog a whole lot lately. I’ve been writing a lot on Wattpad.

But hey, I’m up to 2.3k views on one story, if y’all want to go check that out.

[ https://www.wattpad.com/user/worldwalkerdj ]

I’ve also not had a lot to blog about, other than getting a new kitten (who’s doing great still btw, I wrote more about her here: New Kitten)

But an important milestone happened last month, it’s officially been 2 years since my dad moved out.

WOOOOO!

I cannot believe it’s been that long. Still feels like a few months ago he was here.

And I still can’t believe it was mostly my efforts that made it happen, with some help from my siblings.

It’s so weird. That’s a part I rarely tell people who actually know me, I feel like it would shock them. People already don’t get why I was happy about the whole thing.

In hindsight, I could have been more tactful about it, but I am an open book…

People have to get used to that about me, it’s a shock at first.

To this day, we do still feel bad about it at times. My dad didn’t hesitate to lay the guilt trip on thick when I did talk to him for the first time.

And it bothered me.

I still get dreams about it all too. They tend to make me doubt myself, my worth, my decisions. My sisters gets them too.

But the difference now is, he’s not here. We can replay all his words in our heads, but he’s not here to say them. At some point, either you embrace that or you don’t, I think.

Something that bugged me a lot about it all too is this:

Does Christianity really work?

If my mom and dad really believe, how can they act the way they do? Why are they not kinder?

But recently, I’ve realized I could ask myself the same questions.

Christianity ought to make me happy all the time, if it’s true. It’s truly an amazing belief. Puts everything in the right place, mean that life has a meaning beyond what we can imagine.

I think the very reason it doesn’t make me feel that way all the time is because humans cannot hold the whole truth in our heads for very long. You grow into it…

But really even a piece of Christianity is enough food for thought to last you your whole life, so the whole things is even harder.

Other religions usually just have piece of Christianity in them, and the make more of one thing than another. Then add their own stuff to it.

If we could fully realize it at all times, I think we would live completely differently always.

But our focus shifts from one element to another.

In my life, I’ve accepted that God highlights certain aspects of it for me when I need them. That I can’t try to focus on it all at once, I grow in one thing at one time, and another thing at another time. And hat is the only way I think we really can live.

If that’s not your life, you’re probably not grown at all.

And why would I want to exclude certain parts of it anyway? I want the whole picture.

All the immature Christians I know tend to end up stuck on one thing, and they refuse to leave it, ever.

You’ve met the type no doubt, if you life in the West. They harp on about judgment, or holiness, or grace, till you’re sick to death of it.

And you wonder “what about all the other elements of it?”

Yeah, being a well rounded Christian is kind of like being the avatar. You can’t rely too much on one element, you need all of them together, or you’re off balance.

God is a consuming fire, you have to know him as such–but he’s also the living water, and you need to know Him as that.

And really, that’s what make God interesting, isn’t it? As well as people, if you really get to know them.

We spend too much time in our niches now. It used to be you had a friend you learned different stuff about that friend.

But now I can have online friends for each interest i my life, and never need to go beyond that, ever. And it’s no wonder I feel like I don’t really know any of them that well.

That said, I can’t always know why some Christians don’t live the way I want.

But there’s two point to be made here.

  1. Christians are never promised to be 100% perfect while on earth. We’re told that will not happen, n fact–and we wouldn’t’ be able to relate to anyone else if it did.
  2. It’s entirely possible my idea of what everyone should live like is shallow and narrow minded. Do I know everything? No.

And those who criticize Christians for that reason are actually kind of arrogant. Like, you think you can judge us for still having issues? Do you have a better way of life? Are you doing so much better?

Christianity does not promise to fix all you problems overnight. It promises to save your soul.

What you do with that, is going to be a journey.

But whats the alternative?

I’m convinced that there is no way of life we can take as human that it will turn us into angels.

But Christianity is the only thing that will make anything close to it.

The idea is how close are we getting?

Christian re not always good peopel, but mor chirsitn are good people than people who have no God, and no faith. Or who have iath ina ahrshed God.

Not all charitiyes are chirsitn, but most of them are.

Not all world chagner have ben chirsitnst–but mst of the ones we still revere to this day were.

Not all really good books and sotreis are christiant, but many of the ones we still like after so many centureis were.

One has to look at the tendancies of man, not isioated indivuaile, sometiems.

While my dad was a jerk, and still is. I can’t being to guess how much worse it would have been if he did not at atle thav eto rpetend to be Christiatn. If it spared me one bad moment out of two, then it was something.

And he at least taught me to trun to God, even if he did not practice it himself the way I think he shoudl ahve.

My dad, while the most destructive force in my life next to my own human nature, also ushered in a lot of moments of truth for me.

Do I like him? No.

Can I ignore that? No.

God brings good out of bad, that’s what He does. He doesn’t just keep all bad away from us.

I find that view of life escapist.

I know that people often see this explanation as a christian cliche, and bitter, angry people do not want to hear it anyway.

But I’m to the point where I think: Well, sure, it’s cliche…but what else could you conclude based on the world around us?

God has to be good, I know, because if God was evil why would anything good still exist?

An Evil God would not bother giving us free will, would He?

You can’t reconcile the presence of Good and Evil in the world without a good God giving his creations free will, it’s just not possible.

If God was evil, we all literally wouldn’t have a prayer. If God didn’t care, then we would all be dead already from our own stupidly.

If God is Good, but does not force us to be, then we have our answer. Evil has consequences. To stop them is to render it meaningless to choose at all.

You can’t give your kids keys to the car, and then put it on autopilot, and say that they drove it. It’s just not how choice works. If they crash it, that was a a risk you took.

But it’s more of a risk to not let a kid learn how to do things for themselves, is it not? If you cannot coddle them through life, what will they do?

And God could do that for us, but he seems more interesting having adults, or at least kids with some sense of self.

Every child understands the idea of choice, it’s us older people who try to say we don’t have one.

It’s an old answer, but maybe let’s old because it’s true.

We should consider that, you know.

Some things are just true, so they are eternal.

I know that people who have been hurt do not want to hear that it had to happen.

And maybe it didn’t, I’m not sure sin ever “had” to happen.

But it does.

We all do it.

I’m inclined now, at 22, to think it’s a better use of my time to let God heal and teach me to live better, than to whine about how it all sucked.

Jesus suffered too, after all.

I still have lots of memories of self pity, but God willing, they are getting less.

And I do have some things I still need to work through, but I’m leaning also that it is not the most important thing in the world.

I guess, I’m saying, we can complain about our lives…or we can take the offer to have them made new.

But guess what, whether you take Gods’ offer or not, you’re life is still going to have bad things in it.

It’s just a matter or whether you ever want there to be more to it than that.

That has always been what Christianity offers. Not an escape from the world, but from yourself, and your pain.

With that thought, I think I’ll just end this here, this is short for me, but I think that’s okay.

Until next time, stay honest–Natasha.