Saturday, March 3, 2012

03-02-2012 ~ 03-03-2012


I have been putting it on my Facebook.

I put it on a friend setting that makes them not public.

I may place some on my deviant account.

I found an old poetry book of mine.


The sites I am using for Spanish are:    &

Why do foods have "masculine and feminine? it is fascinating and very much a moment where you kinda just sit their with a question mark on your face... don't think about it. a head ache will ensue.

My french and Japanese is really just me looking up random words at this point as Spanish is my chief concern(the area I live in makes it so). My sign language I just need to brush up on my vocab after a few years not really using it. I took that class for 2 and a half years.

The sites tend to differ on different ways of saying things. I just figure to learn how to understand all the different ways and just observe how people speak to try and pick that up.


In high school I was labeled as having a learning disability. The first diagnosis my grandmother dragged me through with was depressive bipolar. The first time a psychiatrist in my adult life brought up asbergers I freaked. I remembered this case manager when I was a kid screaming in the parking lot. "You don't have it! You can't have it! you are a sweet child! You are not a monster like them! Those children feel nothing!"

She was wrong. It took me years to be able to hear the name of it without cringing and remembering. I had already long breached puberty, I can also attest that it is not a complete lack of feeling. it is merely all or nothing. at least... it was for me. I cannot hide my feelings as I once thought I could. I have seen the old pictures.. it is obvious. I was absolutely miserable. As far as that front, all the medications did was make it easier for me to ignore that my misery was obvious. my misery had nothing to do with chemicals and stupid stuff like "deep and buried issues". I didn't need therapy or medications. I needed my family to be my family. I needed someone to step in and get the the hell out of their. I needed to not have hugs be so strange that the only time I got them was with some people at church. sure it was uncomfortable but... I am almost sure I would have forgotten what  hug felt like if they hadn't. not everyone at that church was bad. I met some of the most evil people in church, some of the greatest too. That is one reason I don't go to them though. I do not want them to reject me. I have lost friends and had complete strangers treat me less than well over religion. those who were nice and were like that to me, are still in my heart. I do not want to face their rejection. I went home to no home. My heart had fled that place long ago. Hands that could not show love but could ooz hateful actions were what I went home to. makes me think of this song I have heard with the phrase "hell is a place called home" in the song the person runs away. I couldn't even do that. the police would just take me back and telling what was happening would just make them either scoff(I never specified "what kind of abuse" so I stopped running and just resigned myself, I gave up)... no matter their reactions it always ended up with me back in that place. Their are those who would have swore(and probably still would) that my grandmother was not like that. I went to a pastor for help... nothing ever came of it. "spar the rod, spoil the child" and "you must deserve it" "you must need it"... by the time we had another pastor I was too afraid to tell him. he was nice. I used to close my eyes and imagine what it would be like if I had a family... a real family who knew what being a family meant. I sometimes had this guilty thing... where I would imagine if he had been my grandfather instead of mine. I think that would have changed much. I doubt he would have allowed that to happen to his family. then again, it was just a child's fantasy. I used to imagine the older man who hugged me every week as some weird uncle who could lighten a room and make everyone laugh. He was like peter pan with wrinkles. for the record, he never touched me inappropriately. I think he just noticed I needed a hug... he never liked anyone to be suffering and did his best to cheer anyone upset up. so I used to imagine. I used to imagine if this lady(their were two of those, one of them I imagined if I had been born with them instead but then I felt guilty for betraying my mother and siblings that way) with her daughters had really been my aunt instead of mine... if her daughters were my cousins. It was stupid but... I doubt either woman would have left me like my own aunt did. hand prints do not come from chairs that "miraculously" make their way into the center of the hallway while I am exiting my room(she used to move the furniture so I would run into it-most marks however, were not from that).

It was a child's fantasy. To me... I feel stupid because even this family member I have never met I have begun to think of with family terms. To me... family is not something that is done over the internet... but they don't even live in this country! It isn't like they could do anything. It isn't like... and besides, they were related to my grandmother. I am too afraid to approach blood family. the only one I really do is that one and my brother. I have lightly spoken with a younger cousin but I avoid too much interaction... an uncle by marriage but it is because he is my brothers father by adoption and is worried for him. I feel horrible for assuming my brother worries over me. His actions have shown not. I feel like a horrible person. He got everything I ever wanted both before and after our mother died and if he was in trouble of any kind... they would not hesitate to help him where he is. That makes them true family. they annoy each-other and worry over one another and even when one is being a butt headed idiot he could still go back home and ask for help and get it regardless... because that is family.

I am the outsider. When I have in the past needed help, this uncle... I don't know if he knew(probably not-he was in another state and I don't think my aunt would have exactly jumped to tell him) but my aunt did know. My uncle seems too... he worries over everything when it comes to my brother. I doubt she ever told him. After a few minutes she just expressed that I was a brat and should have "walked around the chair". I did act differently while she was down though. I was thoroughly confused. I received a hug from my grandmother and she was careful not to leave marks so much and... I actually got  a choice in something too. when I tried to tell my aunt I doubt she ever realized she said the same thing she did years later... "Carolynn is a liar! Mom would never do that!" usually it reverted to "your mother", "my sister"... her name wasn't typical. can you tell I tried several times? she swore after that conversation as an adult she couldn't remember it. I had been in tears. I tried not to flat out start balling while on the phone but sniffed and therefore gave myself away. "knock of the crocodile tears you attention seeking whore!" I don't care to continue quoting what came after, but it made me doubt that she even knew what she was saying anymore.

I heard some things over the years to know enough. I think she needs therapy.... my aunt... her mother wasn't exactly nurturing and keeping things up above the surface. I mean, i got hurt for showing anger once, "don't you clench your teeth at me young lady!" and it didn't matter if you tried to hide your reaction either, she would watch my jaw and my hands had better not have been in my pockets. Then, even if they were not clenched or "fisted" you still got punished for it.

I am the type of person who's every thought and emotion plays across my face. I am not able to stay attached and hide how I feel. I have two settings, no in between.

When I am mad I show it, but I am not violent(the thought actually horrifies me). I don't think about it, it shows on my face, I grip some sort of object or whatnot tighter, the tone of my voice changes. No matter how hard I try I have not been able to change this. When I think of something funny I smile and sometimes I can't keep in the laughs. I know deep motions and the less deep ones that do not anchor to stay. I know love. that one never leaves, though it puzzles me how hate is slippery and refuses to stay in my heart. Am I not supposed to be able to hate as deeply as anybody else? to love, all other things are fleeting.

Everything in my environment and in my life effects me and my emotions easily. I am able to stop myself from crying, to not laugh when I want to, to not scream when it is all I want to do. I am unable though, no matter how hard I try, to keep my face from being anything but an open book without completely detaching. I cannot detach to something that has not hurt me. I do not want to be hurt.

My feelings are too sensitive, I keep them as to myself as I can. To plainly display them is not acceptable but I can only do so much.

My "learning disability" doesn't exist without medications... yet in some form it may. When emotionally upset, their are times I must step back and do things later. To place me in a learning environment online was the best thing I could do. while I am experienced handling high stress situations... I have anxiety and ptsd. I have been hurt. I have been told that telling anyone anything "wrong" will not be listened to, that I cannot tell when I cannot do something. not being able to do it is unacceptable. I am in conflict. I know I cannot but I keep trying to make myself anyway. That is how I grew up. My inability is unacceptable. It will only show I am unable in other areas and such impressions are apparently important.

After that incident where asbergers was brought up in regards to me in my adult life... where he made the suggestion, I screamed "I am not a monster!" .... my friend Artemis used to say "I am a monster" but could never really give any reason why, she simply grew up hearing it apparently. not just in words, but in actions too. I emidietally remembered my aunt and that lady and everything previously mentioned and hated myself for echoing such things. After I had time to think and go over my reaction I went in next time wishing to bring it up and he said "unless you admit to hearing or seeing things not otherwise their, you will never be acknowledged as being autistic as long as you are here", I brought it up again and he asked "do you see or hear anything not their?" "no" "then you don't have it. if you did, they could not treat you here. they are not certified to handle it here."

out of what was said, I do not know what is truth and what is lie but later when I met one psychiatrist(after this all started about six months ago) I told him "you know I have autism right?" his expression on his face and body language, the tone of his voice... that was all I needed to know. He met the expression "guilty as sin" "kid with a hand in the cookie jar" I mean... if that wasn't why then I want to know why. this guy was a complete dick head who tried to get me to, in detail, re hash every rape I have ever been through. he wanted DETAILS. I didn't wanna talk about it. This guys baited me just like my grandmother, nit picked my body language and "tone".

If I am autistic then I am what they consider "high functioning".

Here is something I do not understand. I have met parents who are autistic and have families, single parents as well who do. Yet... when I look online their is a bunch of balloni about autism and how it is a huge hindrance so "great" that i needs to be cured and how these peopel will never function in society.


For some that may be true but... many who are not "contributing members of society" today who also have autism, could have been. I am not talking about the ones rolling on the damn floor drooling(their are different degrees) but I have seen the treatment given to those who do have it high enough in functioning to live a pretty much "normal" life hindered because of how things are run.

To be honest... most of my life people have searched for something "wrong" with me.

It is so bad that apparently my entire life can be torn apart by a false accusation... and I am not allowed to choose anything but "wave".... if I do the consequences have been said will be rather large. the last one to tell me just told me it wouldn't matter what was said. the judge wouldn't care.

I will be waiting to be yelled at this time. the last one to tell me relayed how this judge was like that. you take what is deemed "too long" or take actions she sees as "don't care enough" or whatnot... she yells at you. I know what to expect here. My frustration is not enough and I will be treated as a person who simply "lacks understanding". No. I understand but... my inability to do something I know they will see as simple frustrates me. If I say that though... someone, somewhere will use that. In the beginning I was told to shut up and pretend I had no problems. "stop giving us ammo to use against you". it was confusing then and it is now. it doesn't stop me form doing what was being talked about and in fact I don't think they understand. I do.

Their is much that is confusing and frustrating... but it is not what they have deemed what I need to understand. I want to understand why something that should not have happened has. an answer hat is not the truth isn't the answer to the question. I want to know the truth. I want to know why when I dispute things or ask for help I am simply told to "wait it out" or some other stupid direction. I want to know why I was told their was "nothing" I could do when their was and only told of what was after it wasn't able to be done anymore.

I am frustrated, worried, and somehow handling it alone.

My husband just "rescheduled" his picking up of his things(he didn't use his one time pick up with the police officer-he is supposed to have one come out with him-I don't know the laws for that). I figured that would happen.

I have not had the restraining order against my husband modified. Every time I start to go in the direction of the courthouse to do so I freeze up, I can't move. I just stand their, the idea itself petrifying me to the spot.

The same thing happens when I go to do the thing they want me to do. I can't do it.

I keep on imaging sitting their with the lady asking "what have you done?" "what have you accomplished?" "if you can't even do this, how can you expect me to think you can do other things?"

I bet they think I just don't want to. I am afraid that if I say this to them that they will turn those words on me and say that just because I want to be what is discussed doesn't mean I can be and use that to decide things. I am petrified.

In emotionally straining situations such as this, I do not adapt well. many "behaviors" I had been taught to keep down as low as possible come out clearly. My mother taught me how to understand the things I need to survive. I was taught to think like the nights code of conduct, it was used as an example... because I didn't understand some things and that was the tool I needed in order to understand and have the thought process to understand later.

because of how my mother taught me I do not understand this "cure" thing.

some children think differently and need different methods. a mother should look at her child and see her child, nobodies face or even how society may view them. a mother is a mother. for all her flaws, even my mother knew that.   school and simple observations of the world will teach them predigest and all that "fun" stuff. As a mother, your job is to give your children the tools to be better both now and later and to be understanding in who they are but firm in what is right and wrong. sometimes it isn't easy(I know I hate it when mine throws tantrums, I listen carefully and if the tantrum ends and becomes anything even remotely emotionally despairing I pick him up and give him a hug, he is 2. time out is not as important as letting him know I love him. while discipline is important... if I do not show him he is loved and accepted it could do damage later on as well as now. the damage done while you are a child doesn't go away and the things you are taught so young are remembered. sometimes it is hard. I do not want to teach my children that temper tantrums are acceptable... but when the cries turn from that I couldn't hold back if I wanted to.

As a parent their are times to remain firm and times to give a little.

Is that supposed to be some monumental thing to understand? Am I not supposed to listen and discern when is right to give and when is not based on my child's reactions as an individual?

I have two boys. I do not want to place them in a box, lump them together in everything. I want them to know that I love them both equally. when one needs more of one thing or the other another, I will give it and have. still... it doesn't stop me from worrying if they have enough or too much. I do not only worry for physical but emotional as well. I am their mother. I love them. I do not want emotional strife to come from me. I pay close attention and do my best. I put my chidlren first and nit pick myself at every turn and in fact only call it nit picking when others do it.

these are things i have been told in the past. "you are a good mom." for doing. To me, it is doing what I should and being how I should be for them... while the praise was very much appreciated... I must confess that I am guilty of thinking it not priority. it was nice but... it was words. my rewards lay in having healthy and happy children who have what they need... so pardon me if the things I do NOT understand offend you.

I am not sure anybody understands the things I do not understand. I am not sure anyone would take a lie as a "reason" and I sure as hell know several people who would have already decked someone at least a few times already... very mild tempered people too... merely on the principle. their is only so many times you can explain your understanding only to have it thrown back in your face with "I don't think you understand" before you have to picture obscenely graffic depictions in your imaginations(so the years on medications gave me ideas... never ask me to describe what goes on in my head when I am angry-all that matters is that the response is not destructive in any manner nor is it simply bottled up to burst later or become your own harm or that to another-imagination can help with such things... like imaging a dragon doing horrible things in graphic details while she screams in bitter agony-because I understand that imagination land is imagination land and in fact not reality, I also understand that in reality to wish anything of the kind would be bad and evil... in imagination land I lash out in imagination land and keep my outwards interactions acceptable-I don't often need to use imagination land for such purpose as I do not become angry easily but when I do).

After awhile of sitting their being told nothing with this stupid bitch telling you you can't do anything and the ONLY response she has to anything you say is "I don't think you understand" and makes no effort to do anything BUT tell you you don't understand while sitting their with her own lack of intellect and incompetence and way too much naivety(I suspect gullibility as well-the type of personality she has-it is typical-I would know, we are similar in more than one way-besides, I feel sorry for her-probably why I can't hold onto any hate for her-I pity her too damn much... "the road to hell is paved with good intentions"-It also seems paved with half assed work and fraudulent paperwork... but I pity her) for the job she does. Their is only so much you can sit before someone explaining something when they do not want to hear it. their is only so much you can hear jabs about "mentally ill" before you have to learn SOME way to hold your hands and still your anger.

Everyone feels anger. everyone feels a variety of emotions. I beat up three of my bullies when I was in the first or second grade(my brother was still in the kindergarten play yard but I don't remember if they housed first graders as well, I only know what yard he played in and came from to get me). these kids were much older than me. I had started to develop. My body had JUST started to shape(I only knew cuz moms boyfriend kept on referencing it), 3 of them. I was being held against the wall off the ground by my neck. in my head I kept on running through what papa said. "It isn't nice to beat up people just because they are too stupid to realize underestimating someone smaller than them is the stupidest mistake they could make." I was about to just kick them all in the balls and be done with it before running to an adult. simple enough. My brother came over form the play yard over. some kids were picking on him again and as his older sister I usually glared down the younger bullies for him, if they had their "older" siblings bullying him I took care of it. I never through the first punch and always tried to keep damage minimal just like papa taught me when I was little. either way, to allow my brother to come to harm was unacceptable. If that was the only thing they would listen to I wasn't going to allow it. I tried once and my brother ended up being beat up at school rather badly. so while I never enjoyed showing them what I was made of when it came to protecting my brother-I also didn't hesitate.

This became an instance where these 3 boys met that at it's worst possible time in the worst possible way. I had been planning to only knee them in the nuts and run for help. My little brother came over to get help from me for a bully. He saw me. He saw them. He asked what they were doing and wondered aloud why I let them. They saw him. These boys were bigger than me by a long ways. My little brother was smaller than me, build smaller. I took care of him when nobody else would or could. I honestly confess their were times the line between sister and mother was a bit blurred. when mama had been at work people who took care of us like they were supposed to(she paid them) were rare. I usually had to uptake such tasks. it is not surprising then that when my little brother was in trouble I snapped.

Everything my papa taught me about not fighting those weaker than you went out the window. The day he died flew through my head, what they did to me while he had to watch wouldn't stop replaying.

Would they do that to him and make me watch?

By the time I realized I had lost myself in the past while beating the tar out of them my brother was starring at me like he had never seen me before. He was afraid. I hated it. I told him to go back to his playground and if they asked him about it to say he wasn't their and knew nothing. I was afraid I had hurt them overly badly. I wasn't thinking, I was just getting my brother out of their before a teacher saw and he got in trouble too.

I got in trouble for it. I do not know to this day what I exactly did to them in full(I do remember I had gotten their groins multiple times) but... I do know. Whatever it was the school quickly placed me in anger management classes. Dumbasses. they really expected me to not protect my brother? I told them later why but after seeing what happened he did what i told him. I think it hurt more that I scared him like that than the fact that I got in trouble... though mom knew I told the truth. she asked us later. you didn't lie to mom. mom knew. she also confronted us on it, nobody got hurt as my mom wasn't violent but... I got an ice cream cone and made to promise not to do it again. I never told her what I was lost in... only described brief parts of it.

If I hadn't of gotten between my husbands hand and our child... imagine then what I would have done to him.

Then again I am also not so sure. With my brother I wanted him to see strength. for him to witness anything else was unacceptable because he would try to help and get hurt too(I took many beating for him). with my kids... the idea of them seeing me beat the tar out of someone... the idea of them looking at me how my brother did that day... knowing what violence did to me and how much it hurt to witness... the idea repulses me. it is unacceptable.

I may joke about times like that but to me, I carry that incident and the lesson learned with me even still.

It may have been in defense of my brother... but that was the moment I decided I wasn't going to be a navy seal anymore. I had still wanted it, but even after seeing my dad die I still didn't grasp the concept of what it meant to kill someone with your own hands... to inflict such on another.

I didn't care what they did anymore. I could have killed them. I didn't but... the weight of what it truly meant and what I could have made my brother witness... what I could have done. I was about 6 or 7 years old. I would have rather spent my time climbing in a tree to put a bird back in it's nest or pretending I was an archeologist or could fly on the swing... slipping saved lunch items to a local stray through the fence... that kind of thing. I never liked violence. Seeing anyone hurt made me want to help, seeing injustice, made me want to help... and if being beaten kept my brother from being beaten or hurt I took it because it hurt less to be hurt than to have another be hurt. That is the type of person I have always been. In that moment I gave up my dream because the means did not, in my mind and in my heart, justify the end. Life is too precious to me.

I was a kid. by all means I shouldn't have been going through that. people seem to expect kids to be stupid.

People seem to expect me to be stupid.

When I was a child I drew myself as an adult. I frightened my mother by my maturity yet she never made me act like anything but myself. for all her mistakes... that wasn't one of them. my grandmother hated it, wanted to ignore it, contributed to furthering it.

I am an adult. When I was a child I got along better with old ladies and olde people than kids my own age. I wasn't anti social. I just understood things they did not. I was afraid they would understand it as well if I got too close. I was afraid my grandmother would hurt them or have someone else hurt them.

later on  in life a rip tide took me out while we were on a rare trip to visit relatives.

I was pulled under many times and my cousins boogie board is probably all that kept me alive and able to find the surface of the water. I was taken so far at one point that the horizon interrupted just a tiny bit was the only reason I knew where the beach was. I was not a strong swimmer. I had never had much practice. I had been staying in the shallows because of that fact, mostly in the waves. I had been out where I was because I wanted to be with my cousin. My cousin let me use his boogie board. I was trying to use it to learn how to become a better swimmer. I wanted to be able to tread water better so I could be out where they were. I wanted to know my cousin better. I hanging out in that area would help and make him not mad when the adults wanted him to stay back with me... then I was determined to improve so he wouldn't be mad at me.

I got caught. I was told to swim back and then ignored and expected to do so. They thought i was just playing. My cousin was very adamant about the boogie boards well being. I felt guilty for pulling on the string while I was out their. It helped me fin the surface when i went under... but he had told me not to so I was worried he would get mad at me. I will probably seem stupid to many but... I was a kid. Kids who grow up too fast do not stop being kids. they are grown up kids but... still something in them is still a kid.

I had gotten really scared. I got to the point I thought I was going to die. It crossed my mind my cousin would miss his boogie board. probably not the smartest thing to have cross my mind. it may seem stupid but he emphasized that boogie board as important. I didn't want to disappoint him by losing it. I hoped that if I didn't make it back, he got his boogie board back. I didn't want him to be mad at me.

I imagined everyone's reactions. grandmother wouldn't cry, grandfather would just live in denial of everything and detach himself while keeping up appearance for others next to grandmother. I didn't know any of them well so I couldn't imagine their reactions. an image of my mothers brother getting his boat and looking for me crossed my mind but I threw it out. if they cared, they would have checked on me more and kept an eye on how my grandmother cared for me. It wasn't like a big family secret that she had issues.. especially not if my aunt's reactions were anything to go by.

I had a big family but I knew none of them. My parents were not alive and I didn't know my dad's family. I was just going to be sent back with grandmother if I lived... and I didn't like my brothers life being held over my head saying she would make auntie kill him if I screamed. I didn't like the things I was made to do. I didn't quite understand exactly how bad they actually were but I did know they were wrong. I knew they were dirty and bad things.

I contemplated letting go and just falling beneath the water. That is where I wanted to go when I died after all.

I was about to let go when I remembered something my brother told me. he was afraid auntie was going to die like mama. he kept on picturing her like mama... he saw her fall and saw what that man did. he said when he saw me he pictured the same thing. he didn't want anyone else to die. I think it was a rather weak reason. perhaps I was just too cowardly to die, grandmother always said so.

A reason was a reason though and I only needed one. For that one special person in my heart who might cry and feel hurt for my passing, I wanted to come back. I pictured what would happen if I layed on the beach in the same position we saw mama... I pictured what would happen if I never washed up to shore at all.

Would I be a ghost? Would I go where horrible little girls went like grandmother said? Would I go to mama and papa? Would I become a fish or a seal like i would so often dream? Would I go to the moon?

I always had wondered. Even those who said they were sure showed so much doubt.

I went away for awhile, wasn't concious... the lady in my dream looked like me but also did not, she was standing by the sea in a cloak begging the sea to return a little boy who was lost in the waters. The child was her own. The lady even begged that should the child be returned alive her own life be taken, even her very spirit as the price. The pain of this boy's life ending so soon, the crime of such, was worth her very souls essence and she believed this with every fiber of her being. The price was not taken but the wish was granted, the little boy was found after 3 days of her doing this. She neither ate nor slept and continued her vigil. He was alive. I felt in the dram that the boy shouldn't have even been out their in the first place... like it was wrong to begin with.

I do not know why I had that dream. It was weird... but I did. she called out a name when looking to the sea, the name of the sea, and the name clicked and I came back. I was open in some way I did not understand yet didn't need to. I called out that same name with my mind and my heart. I was too tired to even speak. I had tried. I was hungry, tired, scared, and very thirsty. I didn't think I had been out their too long but it seemed like it. I felt something brush up against me. It felt scaly and rough. At first, my very vision went white in fear. I thought about jelly fish and looked around. I loved the sea but had feared it ever since I was very little. My biggest fear was sharks. Whatever it was kept on brushing up against me like lalune used to when she wanted me to go some direction or encourage me. it was weird. I decided if it was a shark I would already be eaten and therefore my fear and feeling it could eat me was illogical... just like that dream and feeling it was important. It kept on pushing me and soon their was more than one. I knew where hey were, another illogical feat. No way was their any logic. The only way that could happen on nay logical level is i base instincts were telling me a predator was near and if one was near, I was pretty sure I would already be in their stomach.

Besides... the noodles and pushes and all the times they brushed up against me were so light... a shark wouldn't be so careful not to damage it's food. I thought on the brief possibility it could be a wale or a dolphin. Dolphins are smooth and very playful. The thought itself made me uneasy anyway, like whatever it was wouldn't like that so much. A wale then? That made me less pleased with the prospect though i had no idea why. I redirected my thoughts and just thought a silent thanks to whatever creature was helping me back to my brother. I was close enough people were the sizes of ants and i felt anxious. I was kicking and trying to make things go faster and I saw this figure standing on the beach. I don't know why but I waved and the figure moved quickly before rushing into the water.

I was pushed again and when I got closer to the figure enough to see it was a lady they stopped nudging me but I knew they were still close by. I felt we needed to get out of the water soon. I don't think whatever it was liked her much, not sure why.

She got me out of the water, back to shore. She asked me questions and found out how far I had been out. I told her some but kept most of it to myself. I didn't want to be called crazy. Grandmother did that enough. "just like your mother" she would say.

My mama wasn't crazy. weird things happened to her too. The happened to grandmother as well but she mostly ignored them, rarely did she pay attention. When cabinets acted like cabinets were not supposed to and things physically started to go awry... then she paid attention. She used to pay attention but stopped. I don't know why. Ignoring something doesn't make it go away.

The lady kept on asking me questions and then she whispered one phrase that I had heard before. "You are a natural." The lady who died in the flames had said the same. She said she "saw" it. I was just happy someone wasn't hurting me or trying to change me. She knew the pills made me see things and knew I had learned to close my awareness like grandmother. The blue star, third eye... I hated mine. I had nobody to share it with and if I spoke of it, it would have yielded disastrous results. Simpler just to keep it closed and pretend it didn't exist. She called it those things. I just called it a part of myself I had to hide because grandmother would have people kill me like papa if I didn't and the pastor would use that as another excuse to hurt me. I didn't want another reason to be less than human in someones eyes.

This woman was like that lady. I was a person to her and she argued very loudly with my grandmother for my rights to choose my own path. She screamed at her, told her if she already knew why didn't she let me do what she knew I wanted and wished.

Shortly after being pulled out of the water, I gave my cousin his boogie board back and apologized for pulling on the string like he told me not to. I was very sorry. I didn't tell him it saved my life. I didn't want him to be mad. He wasn't happy with me and I was already taught that if you were in danger it was your own fault. I was still trying to figure out how it was my fault. I had only wanted to pretend I was actually part of a loving family for awhile. I wanted to pretend my cousin was an older brother and I was the younger sibling who was protected and allowed to be weak for a little while. I wanted to pretend things were not horribly wrong at home. I wanted to pretend I had a home that felt like home. Even when I was little I pretended to myself he was some older brother figure. I even told mom I wanted him to be my older brother. She explained that I wouldn't have my brother as my little brother then but I wanted both. I wasn't willing to give up my little brother for the world(even though he destroyed my toys) but I don't think mama understood. My cousin was strong, fun, and always made sure I was safe when I was over their. Even if it was something stupid that I was used to avoiding... I didn't have to because my big cousin was overprotective. I liked being protected for  a change. Mama got grandfathers ability to turn a blind eye. Brothers papa wasn't very nice. I kept my brother safe and took care of him when mama was at work and left us with him. He didn't take care of us so i had to. I don't think I did a good job. I couldn't reach high things and got hurt more than once but... I did it.

My cousin was big, strong, and made sure things were safe. I was pretty sure he was also tall enough to not have to climb to get the peanut butter like I did when we had peanut butter and jelly while mama wasn't home to make it. I was also pretty sure that he was strong enough to protect both himself and the person he was protecting. Protecting someone and taking a beating for them cuz your not strong enough to protect both of you is not a nice experience.

He reminded me of papa a bit too. He didn't have the shadows in his eyes though. He still had the light of being a kid... though he always seemed a bit older to me, never found out why though.

So when I was older I wanted to know my cousin better and we only had a little while. My brother was more interested in playing with his friends anyway. He didn't need me and I wasn't jealous... OK maybe I was. His friends always got him, I didn't.

I wanted a family. Being related by blood didn't make them my family in anything but name. I wanted to know them and be part of this family, not be the outsider looking in.

I wanted what was stolen from me back. I wanted to be able to laugh and play and be a kid who was taken care of instead of always taking care of everyone else. even when I was hurt I had to take care of grandmother. I always liked working in the church nursery, I didn't mind taking care of children. It always confuses me though. I liked taking care of the children but hated having to be strong and take care of adults.

Shouldn't it be one or the other? Why would I feel that way when I was shown I wasn't allowed?

So many questions and wishes that never got answered or came true.

I don't believe in hell, but I do believe if one exists...

Grandmother was the ruler.

She was the ruler of mine.

Why not that one too?

She did a good enough job at it, so why not?

Was their someone better?

Ah... the musings of a child.

Even now I wonder.

I grew up hearing how mama and papa conceived me while at sea.  My sign is a water sign. I love the sea but am also hopelessly afraid to venture too far into it. Someone I have known accused me of being a selkie. Kind of funny since i wanted to be a navy seal to begin with so I could swim and play in the water with the seals. A selkie is only an old Celtic legend. If I was a selkie I don't think I would fear the sea and I also don't think a shark would have saved me.


Between the brackets is a rough section of my story. some is true and some is tweaked to try and fit it in a fantasy setting... though not much at this point. I have to sift through and sort it and add more fantasy. most of it is complete truth. In order to make something fantasy you have to add actual fantasy.

Someday I hope it gets published.

Please have a good day.



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