Trauma Dump

ISSUES Are Troubling Me

OK. I got issues. I keep having family nightmares — or I don’t know — bad dreams. Every night lately and yesterday even in my damn afternoon nap. I’d say Gods telling me to contact my family, but I feel like if that were the case, he’d send me a happy memory and not just a lot of fucking trash. Also, they all got my number and they all have my address. I did try to reach out about doing lunch on moms birthday, but my bro said he’d check their schedules and never got back to me. But they had a dinner with my sisters in moms memory. Which I get it, my sisters are right there and I’m 90 miles away but COME ON.

I’m Too Poor for a Therapist

I could probably work this out with a therapist, but I don’t have a therapist. I do have a psychiatrist and it’s $130 to see him. Why? Because we have a lack of every type of medical professional here, including mental health and none of them accept insurance because they don’t have to — they’re overloaded with patients as is. And he only does like 10 minutes to talk about meds — not problems. Psychologists are for THAT. So do I want to pay a hundred-plus dollars to talk to someone? Not really. I want to work on my tattoo.

But I can’t work on my tattoo until I pay back my savings I took out to build the deck (which I have HEAVILY enjoyed for two summers now, BTW — totally worth the cost). That was the deal. I’ll stop throwing boat loads of money at my tattoo until I payback my savings I took out for the deck. And I have paid back the deck — but then I also ended up need to replumb some pool pipes. And then get a whole ass new pool pump last year. And then a new salt cell this year. And next summer I’m gonna need a pool robot. And do I want to replace the pool lights? They haven’t worked for like 3 summers — which I’m told they don’t last very long (they’re actually small LED lights, not the big old pool lights that I used to fear were secretly doors that they could open for the sharks to come out and swim at night). Supposedly a super easy replacement that doesn’t require draining any water — so I might depending on the cost. BUT COST. Yeah I paid back the deck, but thousands went into the other shit. I could have finished the whole damn sleeve by now!

I mean to be fair, the pool is nine summers old. So it’s not that the pool is a clusterfuck, it’s just the age that these things fail. The pipes were in full blast sun and the PVC broke down enough to burst. Repiped — but when they burst, the pool got low enough to run dry and burn out the pump. Of course they don’t make my pump anymore so I couldn’t replace just the electronics, I had to replace the whole damn thing. And salt cells usually only last 5 years, I’m told so ours held in pretty long. So has Clarence the pool robot. He’s about 3 years past usual life expectancy but I did have his under carriage replaced a few years back so that might be why he made it so long.

Therapists Suck

Also, it would take like 5 sessions to catch a therapist up on my problems before we could get anywhere. And of course a TON of time is going to be wasted focusing on me being fat being all of my problems. BECAUSE THAT’S ALWAYS THE CASE. I tried therapy back in like 2000 cause I was suicidal and self harming and the motherfucker thought it was all about me being fat and “socially unacceptable” and that was his plan to go forward. Not to fix generational trauma and abuse — I’m just fat.

By the way, the only time i ever lose weight or maintain weight is when I’m happy. Weight is a symptom not the problem at all. Even when I got skinny after Gastric Bypass I was still miserable. And of course that was just an embarrassing failure. And now I’ve gained 7 pounds because perimenopause is kicking my ass so fucking hard and I’m anxious and I’m depressed and I’m being fucking haunted.

That’s right, I said haunted. Yesterday I had to get out of bed at 6 fucking AM with a panic attack. And it’s just all nightmares. I tried to take an afternoon nap to be happy on my long weekend and catch up on sleep and I woke up in another sweaty nightmare.

Like I have an anxiety disorder. “General Anxiety” I think is the technical term? But I don’t think they mean like “oh she’s generally anxious.” I think they mean we can’t put this in a category of “social anxiety” or anything specific — shes just got a lot of anxiety about fucking everything. And now my GYN is like yeah you have menopausal anxiety. THANKS, LIFE.

Now You’re My Therapist. Be Warned, Shits About to Get Real

So my nightmares have generally been family mess. It’s always family fights. Surprisingly usually set in Florida. So Florida was always our summer vacation. Timeshare. It was moms favorite place and I loved the beach too — but like with my family there’s always gonna be some drama so it’s not like that didn’t just take place in new locations. So yeah, when I was very young and stupid, I looked forward to Florida like crazy. But then it stated just becoming a clusterfuck. And I don’t get why mom loved it so much. I mean maybe she was like yall are a hot mess anyway so we might as well be a hot mess at the beach. But I actually felt horrible the last few years of her life because I felt like I was contributing to the drama. By refusing to just not rock the boat and not let shit go, I’m the bitch. I was the bitch complaing about my sisters so just as bad as them on everyone mental health.

My brother always called me and my sisters “the Golden Girls” — he knew it got under my skin at least like no other. Any fight and “oh they’re the golden girls.” Mother fucker, I’m not the crazy ass one here! I’m just trying to have actual healthy boundaries and not let them get away with their shit! Which let’s start there. I adore my brother. But he’s not blameless. He always lumped me in with my sisters which UGH. And my length of college was a huge running joke in my family — mainly instigated by him. He’d always ask when I was going to finally graduate. There’s a Christmas ornament of a graduate on my dads Christmas tree dated 2009. Did I graduate in 2009? No. They just didn’t have any other personality trait to choose for my ornament. Bro was a nurse, Sister1 was a nurse, Sister2 had a paint set, and I had a graduation outfit. Cause I was in college for 10 years. Not because I’m stupid but because I was trying to get through a lot of shit, okay? Did anyone wanna ask about that? No. It’s funnier not to.

That was part of one of the dreams last night. Like I was getting ready for a party — like a nice dress up party like homecoming or something. But we were in Florida so I only had a few things to choose from and I had gained weight so my best options were too tight. And Sister2 for some reason was supposed to take me or go with me or something (a reoccurring of her always stealing the spotlight in my dreams). I think brother was going to take us because he was mad that we weren’t ready. But I was ready! Sister2 was in the bathtub crying for hours and yelled at me when I went in to get my toothbrush. And in her/moms room there were pills everywhere. Like piles of pills laid out — prescription drug-problem shit. So I show brother and he just gets mad. And why do I want to go to this dance anyway? Because it’s my last year of highschool so I want to go to at least one. But wait, I’m 27 (in the dream) and don’t most people graduate high school at 18? Why am I so late? Did mom hold me back some grades and not tell me? What happened?

Yesterday I was napping and we were in Florida and I had a nice room and Sister2 demanded it and I was super sad because it had windows and views and mine now didn’t. And the windows were open with tons of fresh air and beautiful flowers and scents drifting in… And I go shit all.

And the night before last, we were preparing a party for my nephew. They were making cookies for the party and I really wanted to make some too. But I had to clean so I was vacuuming. And Sister1 was acting like I just didn’t want to make cookies and it was my fault I didn’t get to participate. And then brother was yelling about how dirty everything was. And then I finally went to make a cookie but all the sprinkles were gone — but I was like whatever, I’ll use this icing and then bro got mad and started jerking around the vacuum cleaner cause everythings so filthy and none of us will ever clean anything and he gets the cords all in the icing and it ends up all over the carpet and now we can’t have the party cause I ruined it. And now everyone’s mad at me. Also, I thought Sister1 was teaching nephew how to cook burgers in the kitchen but it was my dad. Which might be my subconscious acknowledging that he’s pretty much a feeble old man now.

Most of the time Florida is over and we have to pack up the cars but Sister2 brought like 3 fucking suitcases and hasn’t packed anything so I gotta do it and clean everything up.

So yeah, are these spooky monster dreams? No. I’m not saying they are. But they are clearly my brain ruminating on something it wants out.

Sister2 was always a problem in Florida. She would always bring way too much clothes that brother and sister1 always bitched about because they took up too much space in the car and on the dolly up to the room and in the room. and Sister2 never went to the beach or wanted to do anything. So they were always mad about that. And as we got older, the problems were worse. She was always a binge eater, so she’d eat all the groceries and everyone would be mad because now there’s no food when we had bought food for the week.

She’s been an alcoholic since I can remember. But can my family just maybe NOT have alcohol? Of course not. So she’d just drink it all and get sloppy drunk and piss herself. She always drunk to get black out drunk. Like that was the goal. And we’d all go down to the beach to enjoy the day and she’d steal money from someone and go across the street to get alcohol to do it again. Once she locked herself in a closet with a 24 pack of beer and there was much screaming and ranting and brother threatening to break down the door. Once she got drunk and left to “go kill herself” — so of course mom was freaking out and we had to go find her. There were quite a few times we had to go find her while she was drunk out of her mind. This was before cellphones. I’m old.

She’s always smoked too. And everyone ALWAYS bitches about it. But it was particularly annoying because she had to inconvenience mom the most. Like in Florida, she wouldn’t go through the living room to get to the balcony to smoke — she had to go into moms room and use that balcony door. And in the house we lost to the second bankruptcy, she couldn’t go through the garage to go outside to smoke, she had to go through moms tiny room which had a sliding door to get out. And even as adults, people bitch about “she’s over there in the corner smoking” or something. When we lived in the apartments, shed toss her cigarettes out the window and the maintenance people got mad and gathered them all up and piled them outside our door in moms flowers. Pretty sure I had to clean that up.

And my brother and sister1 always hated her. So I always had to deal with it. She pissed herself and passed out in the living room? Mom wants me to get her to her room. Then I gotta clean the damn area rug and I’m covered in piss. Once she passed out on the lawn and I had to go get her immediately before the neighbors saw. Why am I always the one taking care of this shit? Cause brother and sister moved out and I’m the youngest. But even in our first house we lost to bankruptcy, I was cleaning her messes. Like she was bulimic. But for some reason she threw up in a 5 gallon bucket in her closet instead of the bathroom. Who the fuck knows why. So do you know how bad a 5 gallon bucket of vomit smells? Real bad. And do you know it’s too heavy for mom to get? Yeah, so I gotta do it. Get it downstairs and across the yard to dump it. Like am I the vomit bucket fairy? It’s like people think trash and recycling just disappears if you leave it long enough. THAT’S BECAUSE I’M THE VOMIT AND PISS FAIRY.

This might be why I’m so anal about my house not smelling bad, BTW.

And brother was always just angry and disgusted with us. We had far too many pets because dad dumped his dogs at our place. So we had like 10 Beagles to breed and train. Oh and who had to go hose the dog shit out of the kennels? Yeah, ME. So much dog shit. Wet stinky dog shit being hosed off concrete. By me. And I never did it enough so I felt bad for the dogs. I was the only one who cared to go pet them.

And the cats just used the dining room as a litter box. Just shit everywhere. And mom worked 4 jobs so the only one ever cleaning anything up was me and I wasn’t good at it or did it enough so of course the house is always filthy and it’s always me getting yelled at for it (not by mom — she was just broken and trying to survive). Cause I’m one of the disgusting worthless golden girls.

You know, I cleaned up a lot of shit and vomit and piss was growing up, now that I think of it.

Anyway, Sister2 was also insane and abusive. I couldn’t sleep cause she’d wake me up by hitting me and yelling and shit. Usually because my TV was on. I liked to fall asleep to QVC and I was allowed to. But no matter how low the volume was, it was too loud for her. And after school she’d be mean and yell and throw shit at me. Like hard core throwing shit at my head. Once I flipped the recliner ducking something. She was like a harpy.

That’s why my dog hated her. He wasn’t a bad dog, he was defensive of me. The only being to ever give a shit about my child self. I slept in moms bed a lot cause I had this intense fear mom would die. And she had a california king bed and I was scared of the dark… and sister2. So the dog would sleep at the end of the bed. And sister2 would walk all the damn way across the house past their bathroom to use moms bathroom in the middle of the night (seriously, WHY WAS SHE ALWAYS HARASSING MOM) — but if me and dog were in there he’d just growl and not let her in the room. He was just protecting me. But she couldn’t do anything when mom was home. But after school she could trick the dog by baiting him and wrapping him in blankets to throw in the closet — only to let him out right before mom got off work so she wouldn’t know.

Bitch be crazy. So dog hated her and attacked her. So dog had to go. Mom says she gave dog away but dad said he tied dog up and drug him out in the woods to shoot him. He told me that after school when I got home and dog wasn’t there. Why are these people so fucking insane?

I mean, I know the answer. Sister2 has been diagnosed with antisocial personality behavioral disorder. I’m sure that’s dads problem too. And dad is for sure a narcissist to rule them all. I didn’t know that when I was little so I idealized him. Everyone else hated dad, but I loved him. When I visited his apartment, he’d buy men CANNED COKE. We were too poor to have that shit — so like awesome. He’d only come over to the house to work in the garage on wood projects — but I’d go down there and watch. His friend would sometimes give me scrap blocks to play with and help me put together little creations I made with the scraps. The friend, not dad.

Those weren’t the only dog problems. We had a newfoundland in fucking Alabama that we just tied up in the backyard when I was really little. She was pretty neglected. I did take care of her food and water, but she was so big and drooly and matted and smelly that I didn’t really like doing it. Not that I was ever mean to the dog — no I petted her, and we played in the backyard together. But I was the only one to take care of her and when she died dad went on a rant about how I was the only one to give a shit about that dog and I felt existentially terrible because I didn’t like taking care of her and knew she was neglected.

Then we got the dog that hated my sister that dad may or may not have killed. I liked that one. But I couldn’t save him or protect him either so I swore to never let down another dog. I couldn’t even get him out of the closet.

We DID try family therapy once. It was a group session with us all in the room. And like yall expect me to talk about my abusers — WHILE THEY’RE IN HERE? Yeah fuck you, I’m fine. I’m great even.

But when I was little, I actually did believe that. I didn’t know I had problems or was unhappy. I didn’t know I lived in an abusive codependent household. In FACT, I was so jealous of the mentally depressed girl and troubled girls at school cause they go so much extra attention. I tried to hide in church and being a bubble Christian. Gotta be crazy to be interesting, I thought. Then like 5 years later I busted and went bat shit insane. So there’s that.

I used to think my sister was haunted by a demon. I’m not sure I don’t still think that. I do know she is highly troubled. I remember once she was crazy drunk and I was trying to get away and go to my room but she was taunting me. I was studying my Bible and she asked me to read the Bible to her. I passed, ’cause hey Satan, not today. And it was just this creepy horror movie taunt about why didn’t I love her enough to read the Bible to her. Now that I’m older – I’m not throwing out the demon thing – but I do know she had multiple abortions. Maybe she was trying to drown that out. She was obsessed with this asshole for years and YEARS — like a decade. Fucking Ryan. But he never loved her back.

It’s pitiable, really. Truly. But does that negate all of my suffering at her hand?

As far as Dad, everyone hated him when I was little, but then it flipped. I had a mental breakdown and realized hey — Dad is a son of a bitch. He’s been trying to ruin moms life for 40 years. So much of our family is insanely fucked up and this motherfucker is why. He sprung a secret ass family on me when my step brother was 16 and moving in the next week. Then yelled at me for not being accepting. Not that I was unaccepting, I was emotionless as I had been trained to be from a very young age. I didn’t say shit. But dad projected that I was angry and was furious.

Oh yeah, after the first bankruptcy, I moved in with dad. See, he had moved back into our house (not as like being with mom, just like — hey I live downstairs now). And we lost the house. So we had to get apartments so we got two two bedrooms and sister2 lived with mom and I lived with dad — because this was before I knew dad was an evil son of a bitch. And that’s when I found out secret step brother was moving in. (Looking back, 30 years later — this is why I wasn’t allowed to keep anything in “MY” room at dads — makes sense, it was really his room). It was a cluster fuck cause I was in high school and people were like wait, you live with your dad? Cause mom was everyone’s beloved teacher (rightfully so) and I came to school with her. And even from my youngest age we always centered holidays around dad. They were at his apartment or his house. No presents could be opened until the video recorder was set up for dad to watch later.

I was just dead inside when I lived with dad. Like emotion-wise. Not ailment wise. The stress was killing me I just didn’t know it. I was on smooth muscle relaxers for the constant stomach cramping pain and vomiting. But I was so broken, I didn’t even think I had problems. Anyway, after a year of that, my brother and his wife were like “Mrs C can’t live with dad anymore” and we got a three bedroom so I could move in with mom and sister2. Yay! More abusive, psychological warfare, and piss!

Then we got the second house we lost to bankruptcy (fun FACT! This is where moms flamingos are from). Then I moved to college. And started getting therapy. And started hating dad. But like, now everyone loves dad or at least sees him as worthy of living in his delusion. So last year when he almost died because he refuses to control his diabetes and got an infected hair on his balls and went septic, I didn’t wanna baby sit. And somehow I’M THE BAD GUY?

So they like disowned me for the year, right? My sisters still haven’t opened the christmas gifts I sent them. They didn’t come to Thanksgiving at my brothers. But Sister1 weirdly stayed here when she was in town and needed a free bed. It was awkward.

I finally talked to SIL the other day — after like 9 months of unreturned calls. I mentioned my banishment and she was like naw, they just don’t communicate. She says she never talks to them either but thats not true cause I have facebook and see photos. I wasn’t invited to the family vacation but they’re playing the “everyone is always invited” card. And my sisters have started commenting on my posts sometimes. Like WTF? Last week there was a post by dads girlfriends that mentioned Sister2s cats were leaving at the end of the year. I was curious but didn’t know what was up. Cause I was disowned and no one talks to me anymore.

Background on Sister2s cats. When we lost the second house, mom moved in with my brother and his wife and Sister2 moved into my brothers old house. She was supposed to pay rent but hardly ever did. Eventually SIL got super self conscious that mom was running her house way better than her so they kicked mom out to live with Sister1. Well, the only way to get Sister2 out of their house was to sell it. So they did and mom convinced Sister1 to take in Sister2 for 4 months. So Sister2s cats went to live with Dads girlfriend. But Dads girlfriend doesn’t even live at her house. She kinda lives between that house and dads. And Sister2s cats don’t get along with her pets so they’ve been confined to a single bedroom for… oh 10 years now. Sister2 never visits them.

Yes, Sister2 has tried to move in with me. No. Yes, Sister2 did try to get me to take her cats for “just a month.” Then they wanted me to take them again after Jack died (hence my keeping Louie a secret at first).

Sister1 is just a completely bitter bitch now. So hateful. BY THE WAY — mom was afraid to move in with my husband and I because she said she’d destroy us like she did with my brother and SIL (getting kicked out) and turning Sister1 into a little dad. So sad. It wasn’t mom, it was that fucking leach.

Sister1 hates Sister2 and is so angry that she’s been stuck with her since mom died. But like, kick that bitch out, I’m not taking her. And there’s resentment from Brother and Sister1 that I lead this great life 90 miles away and they still have to take care of Dad and I refuse to help cause fuck that asshole. I’m polite and cordial. But no, fuck them.

And it’s so weird cause Sister1 has this facebook persona of the sweetest most hilarious person ever. Even my inlaws like her. But she’s not that person. But everyone buys it and adores her. I think husband would buy it if he wasn’t there witnessing her interacting with me. It’s really weird. I like her facebook persona. But she’s a wretched bitch.

My whole family has always had this weird two faced ability to be loved by people. Like I worked at Target for 5 years. Got sister2 a job there and people would be like “OH MY GOD, YOU’RE SISTER2’s SISTER?” Like bitch no, I’ve been here 5 years — she’s my sister. And Dad manages to get affair partners and wives and now a girlfriend. And Sister1 is beloved on social media.

IS IT ME? This might be one of my biggest reasons to absolutely refuse to have two faces. It’s fucking disgusting. But like, am I the problem? Because we could just have a fake holiday with the fake personas but like I cant do it. I hate you. I can’t let it go.

Maybe it me.

Is it me?

Yesterday, I was on a family group chat — the first in almost a YEAR. Sister2 has a new job with business cards (holy fuck, she only ever had a job like twice in her 50ish years). Everyone’s congratulating her (yes, I did too). And Dads girlfriend says she’ll tell her cats. Sister2 replies that she hopes to have an apartment by February. So that’s new.

But this dream haunting was already going on before that. Every night — fights with my sisters, sometimes my brother. Sister2 getting wasted and destroying everyone’s lives. Me getting fucked over so Sister2 can have what she wants. Me being blamed for everything.

The holidays are coming. what the fuck is happening for the holidays? Last year brother hosted Thanksgiving but I was the only family that went. He said hes not doing it again but SIL says they are. I thought about saying I’d do it — but like, that means I have to invite them all and have one of those fake persona parties. And pretend like yall haven’t ignored me for a year. I just want my brother’s family to come.

Works been a shit show too. I got into with my bosses (rightfully so). After one meeting, I was discussing it with two colleagues and my coworker-friend said she didn’t listen cause once me and x start going at it, she tunes out. I was like fuck me — I’m AW. He’s a guy who does no work and talks an ungodly amount. So at every meeting he talks for like 30 minutes and fucking everyone hates him and just doesn’t listen because it makes no sense so we just ignore it until it stops. AM I AW NOW?

AM I THE PROBLEM HERE?

This brings back a lot of childhood trauma. Sister2 is batshit (verified with paperwork) but she doesn’t KNOW she’s batshit cause the crazy. So when I was little I used to cry about it to mom and ask if I was like her. And mom would tell me no, of course not. But I was like — she doesn’t know she’s like her so HOW WOULD I KNOW?

And now I’m having an existential crisis as I type this — HOW WOULD I KNOW?

It could be me. I could just be a human piece of garbage. Maybe I am and I just don’t know it. What the difference between I have therapy and healthy boundaries and I’m just a bitch? I’m the only one who has to go to a psychiatrist to function.

I mean I do hate everybody.

Holy fuck I think it’s me.

Would the world be better without me? Cause I’m gonna be honest — it might be without dad and Sister2. Like I’m sorry I’m being honest. Mom would have been better. Sister1 would be better. I’d not have needed 20+ years of therapy.

Maybe I’m just a despicable fat blob of a toxicity like my uncle in law said. Well, he didn’t say the FAT part — I’m adding that on. I honestly have no idea right now. Wheres the ice cream? I need ice cream.

How do I make the nightmares stop? I can’t even fucking take a nap and pretend I’m dead because they’ll be there.

I’m literally going to cry with ice cream now. This is why I’m fat.

I suck.

You talk about your scars not your wounds.

I’m watching a YouTube of two doctors (Family Med and a Psychologist) discussing mental health. It’s very interesting. The title comes from that. This is over and hour, but right now, they’re talking about people sharing their stories. Specifically people sharing their stories online. The psychologist said the title: “talk about your scars, not your wounds.” He expanded on that to mean, talking about things you can discuss without breaking down and having nightmares for a week. If your tik tok goes viral, be prepared for all the feedback on your trauma. So don’t talk about something that’s still raw.

Luckily I’m 40 with a fuck ton of therapy under my belt. I find that talking about my fucked up shit helps me. It gets it out there. Like it’s not a secret. It’s not my fault it happened. I’m not the only one that went through that shit. So it helps ME in being open like “hey, this is a part of who I am. There’s reasons I’m fucked up, please understand.” But also a bigger reason I talk about my mental health is to show other people, yo — “you’re not the only one.” And then there’s also a little bit of total selfishness.

How do I explain… There’s some people I know of — who have a lot of trauma of their own. And they know me very superficially through third parties. If you don’t know anything about me — but you hear my accomplishments, I sound like green pasture, right? I moved away from my family, went to college, graduated, have a great job, married, live in an amazing house, have a funny cat, post pictures of me and my friends by my own pool. One of these people was having a major psychological crisis and I found out that part of their trauma was comparing themselves to ME because we’re the same age. I was BLOWN AWAY.

So like, I want people to know, it ain’t all roses. I grew up with a lot of family trauma. When I finally moved away, I broke down. I failed multiple semesters of college. I was self harming and suicidal and agoraphobic. I finally sought out therapy. Let’s insert an *AGAIN* here. I had sought out therapy secretly when I was old enough before I moved away from my family. I was so good at having no feelings and presenting a fake front, that after two sessions with this man, he decided to give me his treatment plan. It included seeing a dermatologist about my acne and also working on losing weight and dressing better — which I took offense because I picked out my best outfit for this bullshit. It was Lane Bryant pants and shirt! That’s quality, expensive shit. I remember this so well. It was dark brown dress pants that flared but they had a rough edge on the bottom. The shirt was a green plaid button up — but one that was cut to form fit and flatter. But I mean, I was super fat, so it’s not gonna look GREAT on me. But I was wearing good clothes that fit and were stylish. It was my favorite outfit. So I pushed back. And he said this exact quote “Society doesn’t find THIS acceptable” — while using a two arm gesture referring to my entire body. Cause I was fat.

I left and cried in the car. When I got home (no one knew I was seeking therapy or even needed it – I was totally happy). I stayed in my room for THREE DAYS and just cried. I couldn’t wear those clothes ever again. It was highly traumatic. So it took a few years before I was willing to go again. But back in 2003/4ish, I was rock bottom. So I went. And they put me on meds and a standing Monday appointments with a behavioral (talk) therapist. Eventually, I started going to CODA for codependent people who come from fucked up families. So I was hitting the root of my issues finally. And it was hard but it was worth it. I only did it because I was literally going “At worst I kill myself in the morning.” In the vein of Wesley’s quote from the Dread Pirate Roberts in the Princess Bride.

And yeah, I didn’t graduate college until 10 years AFTER highschool. Even though I was in school that entire time. I was a joke. Literally, it was a family joke. There’s a Christmas ornament on my Dad’s Christmas tree of me as a graduate — from looooooong before I graduated. Because they got everyone custom ornaments like a nurse and shit but thats what they chose for me. Not something like a painter or reflecting a hobby. Nope. Also, no one told me I could have all those failed semesters wiped from my record due to mental illness so my GPA is a 2.1. Yeah, ouch.

Yall. I am rambling now. I did not intend for ANY OF THAT to be in this post. I just got going. The POINT of this post was supposed to be a very dark humor post about an incident that happened this week.

Incident is too strong of a word. Let’s just say – something that came up.

I was browsing Reddit cause that’s most of my time. There was a thread on “Ask Reddit” about what you can’t understand how people can afford. And one of the joke/maybe not so joking ones was “A second family.” Because dude, most of us are barely affording our lives — you’re gonna have a whole ass second one? Who has the money and TIME for that!? I come home and watch youtube because I’m too exhausted to commit to an actual show or movie. Yall are juggling multiple partners and kids? What?

But… MY DAD HAD A SECOND FAMILY! And I had totally forgotten until I posted about it in this Reddit thread. Like for real — LOL — Laugh Out Loud. I forgot my dad had a second family.

So I was messaging with my husband like woah, dude, I can’t believe that slipped my mind. I wonder if my psychiatrist even knows? Like would I mention my stepbrother (I wouldn’t) and be asked how it was growing up with a step family? “Oh no no, I didn’t know he existed until I was 16.” We had declared bankruptcy for the second time and lost our house for the second time (the one with the pool where I got my moms flamingos from). We couldn’t afford a three bedroom apartment, so my evil sister moved in with mom and I moved in with dad. (Getting fucked up, right?) Then my other sister had a car wreck and had to move back home so she moved into my room at dads.

Dad called a family meeting. Not in a healthy way. He does that shit in weird ways. Like he went to help at 911 as a firefighter so he could die a hero. So we had a family meeting about how he wasn’t going to come back. It was weird.

So family meeting. Over spaghetti. I hate my dads spaghetti. He buys the chunky sauce that has like whole ass chunks of carrots and onions and tomatoes and shit. That aint right. So he announces my step brother is moving in. (My older siblings were old enough to remember the initial affair, marriage, attempt to take us away from mom – so I don’t think this was huge news to them). I didn’t even know I had a stepbrother. Apparently, he was moving in through.

Listen, by this time, I was checked the fuck out. I wasn’t remotely upset mentally. I was withdrawn eventually from this situation by a charge from my sister in law that “yo — she’s not OK, she can’t live there anymore.” I was so good at hiding and not acknowledging my emotions that I didn’t know I HAD them. I was really fucked up medically. Stress will kill you. I was having episodes of stomach pain that would bow me over. I was seeing doctors and on smooth muscle relaxers. It was all stress. But I wasn’t self aware enough to know that, much less convey that to a doctor.

So this news wasn’t distressing. I don’t think I even had a “here we go again with more bullshit” reaction. I had no reaction. So I got up to get a glass of milk. Perhaps my stomach was acting up? This was read by my father as me reacting. So I got chewed out about how we’ve always been treated as superior. My step brothers always known we had it better than him and a better life. It’s not his fault and we WILL accept him. Like “OK, dude, jesus – I’m just getting some milk.” I distinctly remember the moment and where I was standing by the ugly apartments moon light over a counter between the kitchen and dining room. He moved in and slept on the couch.

So yeah, my dad totally had a second family. He had an affair while i was a baby. He got her pregnant. He named my step brother my actual brothers middle name. Then they decided to be a happy family so he decided to divorce mom. She wanted us to call her mom and for him to get full custody (probably so he wouldn’t have to pay child support). I was too young to remember though.

No idea why it just completely died and no one told me we had a step brother LOL

I’d even stay at my dads apartment sometimes (cause I didn’t know he was a bastard — and he could afford canned coke. And he had a NES). He had a spare room “for me.” But I wasn’t allowed to decorate it at all. Probably because it was also my step brothers room. So that makes sense now. I was allowed to leave one stuffed animal there. I chose my BEST ONE. It was a huge soft lion with long arms that were weighted so he could give you hugs. What a fucking waste.

Man, I bet all of this shattered my moms heart. Especially, when I bragged that dad bought me a 12-pack of cans of surge! Why didn’t she ever tell me anything? I only found out when I was adult and decided dad could go fuck himself on my own volition. She said she didn’t want to ruin my relationship with him. FUCK THAT. Mistakes were made.

But yeah, so my dad had a second family. What a weird thing. Also, what a weird thing to forget. Like I have so much childhood trauma, I forgot about that one. I mean listen, my dad is a clusterfuck. (My sister is worse in affects on my own life). I’ve gone extremely low contact with dad. Unlike my siblings, I don’t pretend to give a fuck. Because… I kinda don’t. What a bastard.

Any time they expect things from him or are surprised at something he did, I bring up Penny the cat. He fucked that cat up so much that she lost her hair and lived on the top stair by the attic. She had been the sweetest cat when I stayed at dads apartment in my fake room. My sister watched her while my dad was out of town and dad could never get her back because she hid from him and refused to be caught. She grew her hair back. Great cat. So yeah. Like if dad mentally fucked up a CAT that bad, why are you expecting him to do decent with humans? The man is incapable. Stop it. He couldn’t even meet the emotional needs of a fucking cat. He can’t meet yours.

So yeah, sorry this was so deep. I was literally amused and validated when I realized I forgot about my dads second family. Like oh yeah, that’s why I hate that guy. I’m right.

He had a motorcycle and a boat too. While we had nothing and lost two houses and mom had 4 jobs. What a fucking bastard.