#<- half my childhood friends for some reason. used to hang out in the catholic church admin office after school cuz someones mom worked

[joelletwo]

i dont actually know the. denomination demographics of my local ~lifelong community but nods nods nods. that feels like how ive been socialized kjsdfg

[dragonnan]

This is faaaar from a complete list and will be spotty at best but I’ve been pondering MCU characters a lot as I’ve been getting slowly back to work on my mega-fic.  I LOVE minor head canons.  Simple stuff like favorite foods or what music they listen to or were they ever a smoker or whatever whatever.  So I’m gonna give myself the challenge of crafting some head canon and anyone else is very welcome to dive in! (some things are already established via canon)

~ Ethnicity ~ Faith ~ Smoker ~ Alcohol ~ Favorite food ~ Favorite cookie ~ Favorite animal(s) ~ Favorite music ~

Tony Stark:  Ethnicity: Mixed European-American-Jewish (he refers to himself as a “mutt”) Faith: “No thanks” being the initial answer but if he feels like opening up he’ll admit to believing there’s likely “something” out there but at the same time figures that “something” stopped caring about humanity a long long time ago.  Smoker?  Never liked cigarettes but smoked a few cigars when he was younger due to Obie’s influence.  He never was a big fan but wanted to fit in with his mentor.  Alcohol: Influenced both by his father and Obie, Tony started drinking hard liquor semi-regularly as young as 14 (his Dad let him try his first sip at the age of 6).  He pretty much sticks with Scotch or Bourbon but is not opposed to cheap beer at a ball game.  In fact the cheaper the better - a requirement for any self-respecting American.  Favorite food: hot dogs.  Neither one of his parents cooked.  Breakfast and lunch were whatever whenever for all three of them but dinner? You better be sure you were at that table before the plates were set down or you could go without (and Tony got a slap from his father when he’d observed that rule only seemed to apply to him).  But on the nights he was sent to his room, Jarvis would slip upstairs, later, with a sandwich or, on really rough nights, a couple of hotdogs.  Favorite cookie: Those Christmas wreath ones made with cereal and marshmallow with the cinnamon candies.  Favorite animal(s): he likes all animals but if he had to pick one for a pet he’d get an iguana.  Favorite music: well duh lolol.   

Stephen Strange: Ethnicity: Mixed European-American (borrowed from Benedict Cumberbatch’s ethnicity and adding the American) Faith: Originally atheist but now closer to Buddhist.  Smoker:  Never.  Even prior to becoming a sorcerer he has always been conscious of what he takes into his body; especially given the history of cancer on his mother’s side of the family.  Alcohol:  Wine, occasionally, though he isn’t really a social drinker per-say.  Favorite food:  The spicy shrimp and pork dumplings from a Thai place in Midtown.  Favorite cookie: Hmmm.... not a big sweets guy but he won’t turn away a few ginger-pecan cookies with coffee.  Favorite animal(s): dogs - unequivocally.  He had a border collie growing up on his family farm in Nebraska.  Favorite music: please don’t make this poor man actually have to choose.  

Steve Rogers: Ethnicity: Irish (as per comics) Faith? Irish-Catholic (as per the comics).  Smoker? Prior to the serum there was no way he could safely do so with his health issues.  After he started traveling with the performers all of the girls in the group smoked and he tried it out a few times but never developed a taste for it.  Alcohol: he drank A LOT - easy enough to do as it never had any real effect on him.  He enjoys scotch and bourbon (a taste he picked up from hanging around Howard Stark).  Steve seems to low-key always have the munchies (like most enhanced) and once Tony picked up on that there are always a variety of snacks scattered here and there throughout the compound (also of benefit for Bruce, Peter, Thor, and, later, Bucky).  Steve’s favorite foods typically remind him of his mother’s cooking.  While they’d never had much (especially after his father died) his mom could do a lot with limited supplies.  She used to make a fantastic meat pie with ground beef or tongue.  He hates SPAM.  They ate it in the Army, constantly, and just the smell will occasionally send him back to those days and not in a good way.  Favorite cookie?  Oreos.  He can clean up a family sized pack in like 10 minutes.  Steve loves animals but is especially fond of horses and dogs.  There was a dog in his unit in WW2 and Steve, like most of the other men, would share bites of his rations with it.  Steve is nostalgic about music from the 40s but finds that 70s rock really resonates with him.      

Bucky Barnes: Ethnicity: Romanian-American (borrowing a little from Sebastian Stan’s ethnicity) Faith? Possibly agnostic.  Smoker? Heck yes - both cigarettes and cigars.  Like Steve, the serum he received (via Hydra’s experimentation) means he gets to dodge the detrimental side effects of smoking.  Alcohol: He likes to drink but is almost exclusively a beer drinker.  He has a big appetite but refuses to eat around others if he can at all help it.  His favorite food is corned beef with cabbage.  Steve’s grandmother was an Irish immigrant and would make it every Sunday before the war impacted rations.  Since both Bucky’s parents were dead he’d often have dinner with his best friend.  Also, unlike Steve, he actually likes SPAM.  But then, arguably, he isn’t terribly picky about food in general.  Favorite cookie: molasses.  Favorite animal(s): birds - eagles in particular - though he doesn’t look too deeply at the psychology of their ability to just fly away.  Needless to say a crafty observer might spot a former Winter Soldier tossing seeds towards the pigeons.  Favorite music: He’s pretty eclectic though he shies away from anything too loud like death metal.  He finds classical very soothing.       

Peter Parker: Ethnicity: Mixed American-Scandinavian-German-ish Faith: Protestant upbringing but unsure where he currently stands. If pressed he’d say he’s “leaving his options open” Smoker?  “Oh gross!” Alcohol: “Um, too young to drink, thanks! But if I WERE to... you know, try it just to taste it there was this mudslide at one of Flash’s parties that was super good...” Favorite food: spaghetti and meatballs.  Lots of meatballs.  Favorite cookie: chocolate chocolate chip with chunks.  Favorite animal(s): NOT spiders.  And NOT birds given how many rooftops he’s traversed layered in pigeon ick.  He’d probably say cats.  Favorite music: The B side of techno rock - especially Depeche Mode.

Peter Quill: Ethnicity:  Half mixed American and half celestial.  Faith: His Dad was a god and he killed him so he figures he probably isn’t on the best terms with the Big G God should He... or She... or Them... be out there.  Look he just wants to do his thing and cause a little trouble without mixing it up with any other celestial types but if they DO wanna throw down he’d like to point out that he’s 1 for 1 and willing to rumble.  Smoker: He would not say no to a really good cigar and may have possibly lifted a case from Yondu’s stash when he struck out on his own.  Alcohol:  Anywhere any time and in large quantities.  Favorite food:  A thick steakhouse bacon burger with potato chips right on the patty.  Extra cheese please!  Favorite cookie: He’s a simple guy with simple tastes.  classic chocolate chip no frills no fuss and fresh from the oven.  Favorite animal(s):  He likes dogs - who doesn’t like dogs?  But he really likes cows.  Just maybe don’t mention the burger thing.  Favorite music:    

Thor: He’s a Norse god of legend so I figure we can forego the ethnicity/faith questions lol.  Smoker: He has never understood this human custom nor has he felt any inclination to try it himself  Alcohol: Beer, mead, and anything capable of knocking him on his ass.  Favorite food:  chili with ghost peppers.  Though nowhere near as hot as the fire chilies of Muspelheim (which would be instantly fatal for humans so its just as well).  Favorite cookie: strawberry cheesecake with macadamia nuts.  Favorite animal(s):  It’s a tossup between bilgesnipe and whales.  Favorite music:  The mighty horns of battle!  He also enjoys old school country, much to Tony’s disgust.  The story aspect of that music is what appeals to him.

Bruce Banner: Ethnicity: Italian-American  Faith: Catholic in his childhood; currently Atheist or maybe agnostic.  Smoker: He tends to avoid any substances for, you know, obvious reasons.  Alcohol: See previous.  Favorite food:  Waffles with sliced mango.  Favorite cookie: Oatmeal.  Favorite animal(s):  Mantis shrimp - “did you know they can generate so much power in their attacks that they can briefly super-heat the water up to 7,700 °C??”  Favorite music:  Indian- especially Krishna Bhajan.    

Clint Barton: Ethnicity:  Mixed European-American and Panamanian.  Faith:  His parents were both Protestant but he’s never latched on to any specific faith and hasn’t really devoted a lot of thought on the matter.  He has a sorta loose idea of “maybe something out there” but that’s all the further he’s gotten on the subject.  What he tells anyone who asks it’s that his religion is coffee.  Smoker: Briefly when he was a teen.  Alcohol:  Beer - he’s a fan of dark lager.  Favorite food:  Coney Island dogs, Pizza, and pickle flavored potato chips.  Favorite cookie:   Monster cookies with the mini M&Ms.  Favorite animal(s): Dogs  Favorite music:  80s rock and some country.

Natasha Romanoff: Ethnicity:  Russian.  Faith:  She was not given much choice when younger and was raised as “state atheist” (per comics).  In the years since escaping that life, however, she has tried to discover more about herself.  Her parents were both Russian Jewish and there has been a pull to discover more about that faith - especially since meeting Wanda - who is Jewish.  Smoker:  No.  Alcohol: Some vodka - that’s a given.  But she actually prefers wine; and honestly her favorites are wine spritzers.  Favorite food:   Favorite cookie: Krumkake filled with creme and berries.  Favorite animal(s): Favorite music:  Overall she listens to a pile of little-known bands and whomever is playing at whatever bar in whatever city she happens to be in.  She also is a huge fan of old school Spice Girls.

[quinnmorgendorffer]

because i need to get this out here somehow...hopefully the cut works so you guys don’t feel obligated to read this lol

church was always a part of my life growing up, i know i’ve talked about it on here before. i know i’ve mentioned getting “saved” at recess and going to church lock-ins. i’ve mentioned missing some of the christmas traditions our church did, like ending on “silent night” in only a candle-lit worship hall. but religion has just a much heavier part of my life than i’ve talked about.

my family wasn’t always the best in attendance until i was around nine. to quote arrested development “i don’t want to blame it all on 9/11, but it certainly didn’t help.” but actually, yeah, i blame it all on 9/11. we went to a vigil the night of the attacks and suddenly every sunday my sisters and i were woken up to go to church.

i didn’t mind all of it. i liked being an acolyte when i was one on the first or last sunday of the month - first sunday was communion, which we helped with, and the last sunday was the “noisy offering”, where we went around with buckets to collect change for one charity or another. i liked singing in the children’s choir. i never cared for the sunday school or youth group stuff as i grew older and people i enjoyed hanging out with in my age group left our church to join different ones for various reasons. my parents had to deal with the multiple youth pastors we had over the years telling me and my sisters that, basically, believing in evolution was a sin. my parents were NOT okay with that since they, you know, actually believe in science.

i don’t regret all my time in church, though, if only for the music. i still love and miss the songs. it’s how i got my first solos, where i got to test performances at the annual variety show. i had a really bad relationship with my high school’s choir director, but i could always count on getting compliments and praise and love from my church community every time i sang. it was something that really kept me going when i felt very untalented.

when i was 13, i got to join the adult choir because the music minister thought i was good enough, which i was so proud of, because normally you had to be in high school before you could join, but i was asked early. and i even got to sing the soprano solo in fauré’s requiem, my first ever classical solo (which is funny to look back on now seeing as my voice is nowhere light enough to do that piece lol anymore lol). i would practice with the children’s choir every hour on wednesdays, then wait the half hour for the adult choir practice. the children’s choir didn’t perform every week, but the adults did, and we used to do two services every sunday, so i’d wake up early to sing at the first one, go to sunday school, and then go to the second service, where we would normally leave before the sermon started. eventually we went down to just one service (no pun intended but thank GOD for that). eventually i was asked to be the song leader for at least three years of vbs (vacation bible school, a summer camp for kids, normally some over-the-top story being taught through videos). i may have been asked/done more, i can’t remember for sure. 

outside of church, my family wasn’t super religious - most of us, most of the time. my dad still had some hang-ups about gay marriage due to what i have to say is religion, because i don’t think there was any other reason. we’d say grace whenever my grandfather came over for dinner, and sometimes during our own bigger meals when he wasn’t there. it used to be a thing with my sisters (and my mom, i think?) when we’d go to bed that we’d say something about “don’t forget to say your prayers”. oh and at one point, when my sister and i expressed a desire to not go to church, my dad said he was worried we’d go to hell. that was fun. 

all of this to say that.....i remember doubting a belief in god a lot. as i’ve grown older, i still haven’t been able to figure out my beliefs. i find it hard to believe there’s a god when there’s all this suffering, but i also find it, well, depressing to think that there ISN’T a god. i feel like it’s not “smart” to believe in god, at least not Christianity, but i’m afraid i’ll go to hell if i even speak that thought out loud. i’ve found comfort in prayer.....

......except, over the years, i’ve developed a bit of an ocd-style relationship with prayer. i’m terrified of flying, enough so i got a prescription from ativan just to help. and though it can knock me out, i always have to say prayers while the plane is taking off, or else i *know* i’ll die/we’ll crash/everyone on the plane will die. because somehow it’s all my fault, you know? it doesn’t leave me calm at all, but it makes me feel like i have SOME control over things. i’ll say my prayers during bad turbulence, too, any time we shake at all.

and i don’t know when i got back in the habit of saying my prayers at night, but i’ve been trying to prayer every night since covid hit. i’m sure i was praying again before that, too. they’re all silent and in my bed, no kneeling or anything. if it isn’t clear yet, i was raised in the united methodist church, so i was taught that we had a friendly relationship with god and could talk to him whenever. very much unlike how i’ve seen all my catholic friends talk about their upbringings. but i always do a silent prayer and then the lord’s prayer, just like how my church would do it.

and, again, it’s been a compulsive thing where i’ll start saying things in a certain order and HAVE to say them in a certain order with a certain wording, some of which i’ve kept since childhood. sometimes i’m spending several minutes just trying to get through everything because i’m falling asleep since it’s so late and i keep drifting off and i feel like i have to start over or something will go wrong. 

i prayed so hard for joe biden to win. i’m still praying he can get power peacefully. i pray for the covid vaccine. and i spent the most time every night praying that my family, friends, and loved ones don’t get covid. i specifically list my family members, i try to bring up every group of friends - friends from school, theater, the internet, my rocky group, music, opera, etc. - and pull out specific friends who i worry about the most for various reasons and try to remember to pray for their families, too. i pray for my voice teacher and her family. and for everyone i single out, i have to have a reason for why they’re singled out. i pray for my roommate and her family, and then lastly i pray for myself, and always add that if i get it, my roommate will most definitely get it and vice versa.

so all of this is just to say that my faith has turned from any semblance of faith to something i think i’m holding onto just from anxiety. and i hate this jaded dumb story that they do on sitcoms and the like, that someone’s prayers wren’t answered so they don’t believe in god. that’s not my only reason, of course, but having my sister get sick with something she may not survive has led to me feeling this dumb guilt, like i didn’t pray hard enough, that i was falling asleep during prayers, that i wasn’t being a good christian. and i know it’s not true, but it’s how i feel and i hate myself for even trying to take any blame on top of it and i’m just a mess and i’m so scared.

[vitosscaletta]

>:) Personality + Background for Helena, Basics + Appearance for Erin

YES thank u... vampire time

Helena

PERSONALITY

What’s their alignment?

Probably neutral good ehehehe

What are their hobbies and interests? Do they have any particular “favorites” (food, books, and so on)?

Her number one passion is acting, it’s not really a hobby since she does it professionally (or is trying to lol).. She enjoys learning history though, especially the mid-18th century :^) Also music, corny movies, she’s also a huge sims fan >:)

As for her favorites uhhh her favorite band is My Chemical Romance DUH, fav movies are Shakespeare in Love, Valley of The Dolls (yeah ik it sucks),... Shark Tale.... aaaaand her favorite food is fries. Or it was, she can’t eat it anymore :(

What are they bad at?

Within the game’s mechanics and all that.. she’s not much good in a fight (thank u faelike background). She’s still significantly stronger than the average human of course, but very fragile for vampire standarts :/ Noodle arms bitch

Do they have any vices/addictions/mental illnesses?

None that I can think of

What are their goals and motivations?

Before her embrace it was to become a famous actress.. which isn’t possible anymore, she’s still craving that kind of lifestyle though. She grew up not being very well off and not being very popular either, so it’s kinda... wanting to be someone important? Like that Will Smith fish from shark tale :)

What are their manners like? Any habits?

She’s rather well-mannered, not exactly posh but she doesn’t do anything weird in public either.. usually.

What are they most afraid of?

irrelevance... something like that :/

BACKGROUND

Where were they born? What was their childhood like?

She’s originally from San Francisco, grew up with a single mom and her younger sister. They weren’t very well off so her mom had to work a lot, it was pretty much just her and her sister :/ She wasn’t very popular either so she made only few friends in school, it was lonely :(

What’s their family like?

Her mom Jenny is a nice lady, very goal-oriented.. she was very popular in high school, which is how she met Helena’s dad. He’s originally from germany and comes from a long line of vampire hunters and religious zealots (Society of Leopold hoes..), doesn’t really know anything about it though. His family are just a bunch of weird catholics. They had two children, miss Helena & her little Sister, Elizabeth before he divorced his wife and fucked off 👋. He cut off all contact and doesn’t pay child support bc he’s a freak. Also Elizabeth is currently studying law somewhere, their mother insisted they make something of themselves >:(

What factions or organizations are they a part of? What ranks and titles do they hold?

She’s with the camarilla, mostly due to the fact that Christian is in it too. She came to them all starry-eyed because the other members were all sexy, powerful and rich vampires which is pretty much what she wants to be like lmao.. She works directly for Lacroix, kinda like the fledgling except with better pay, slightly less shitty jobs and a tiny bit more respect (only a tiny bit everyone still thinks she’s dumb af). She just has to run small errants lol. There’s no official rank or title though lol.

She’s not really loyal to them or anything and quickly becomes disillusioned by it all. Vampire society is fucked up... she kinda starts spending more time with the Hollywood anarchs because toreador solidarity, doesn’t join their cause though. The anarchs can’t stand her lmao. She’s really mostly independent...

How do they fit into their “story”?

She’s just your good ol’ regular La Croy foundations employee, she was initially my fledgling but I don’t want Christian (her sire) to die, I suppose she’s just like.. there.. idk its kind of a wip

Where do they currently live? What’s their place like?

She has that little apartment in downtown LA during the events of bloodlines :^) It’s a nice place, modern interior and all that... she does miss her old apartment with the victorian furniture though :(( Post bloodlines she probably leaves LA after the whole thing with Lacrosse lol... she’s friends with Ash now they can go on a road trip or something

How do they eventually die?

she doesn’t... shes a vampire >:)

Erin

BASICS

What’s their full name?

Cassandra Erin Winters :~)

What does their name mean? Why were they named that?

Cassandra (from greek “to excel, to shine “) is a little nod to the seer Cassandra, who appears somewhere in her bloodline :^) In-universe it’s one of those names that appear throughout her family.. there are a bunch of important great-grandmothers, aunts and other relatives so her parents named her that to make it look like they’re an important dynasty or something. Rich people bs. Erin is an english derivative of the irish word for.. Ireland lmao. It was just one of those names that were popular in the early 80′s and her mother liked it, there’s no real reason behind it!

Do they have any nicknames?

jhdfjhfd Cammy by Damsel even though she helped them out 😒 also “Newbie” by her bf sdkjskjdf romance ❤

How old are they?

22 in 2004, I suppose she’s 37 in 2020 aka during the events of bloodlines 2

When’s their birthday?

December 13th, 1982

What’s their zodiac sign/element/birthstone/etc.? Do they believe that holds any significance?

I had to take a whole quiz for this but she’s a Sagittarius 😌 I’d say it definitely does lol... she reads her horoscope almost daily

What’s their species/subspecies? Do they have any special/magical abilities?

Vampire lol... specifically of clan Malkavikan. As for magical abilities yknow, typical vampire stuff, plus the voices & Malkavian insight and all that. Her abilities are Auspex and Obfuscate :^)

What “class” do they belong to (for fantasy characters)? If none, what weapon do they favor?

No class but her favorite weapon was the axe she found in the haunted hotel

APPEARANCE

What do they look like?

goddd.... small, pretty blonde, pale skin bc she’s dead, yellow-ish eyes (used to be blue)... big eyes, sliightly overplucked eyebrows bc it’s 2004 :( she’s still cute though

Do they have a face claim?

Mostly Bella Heathcote and Christina Ricci in one image I found on pinterest lol.. I never have faceclaims that are 100% what they look like :(

What’s their style like? Clothes, hair, makeup?

goddd jt was pretty much regular late 90s/early 2000s popular girl before her embrace.. short skirts, juicy tracksuits, tube tops, those awful tinted glasses, coats with fake fur. Her hair was often in those late 90′s updos with a few streaks hanging loose in the front... makeup is just regular looks from the time, lipgloss, frosty eyeshadow and all that 🤢 she’s a big fan of turtleneck sweaters though 😌

It’s still the same but a bit more fucked up post-embrace because she’s just like go crazy aaahh go stupid aaahhh and digs out some of her weirder clothes because half of these vampire bitches wear dumber clothes than her anyway... an old white lace dress that looks like it’s from the early 1900s or something like that... her standard outfits are still low-rise jeans with tank tops and those giant early 2000s shoes though, she just adds in a few weird looking clothes for fun sometimes

How do they carry themselves? What’s their default expression?

Honestly she looks like this emoji 😳 most of the time, Malkavian voices, weird doomsday visions and all that... She had a very cheerful attitude before her embrace and it still shows sometimes, most of the time it’s kinda weird though :(

Do they have any physical ailments or disabilities?

nope!

[juleshq]

*  𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐠𝐨𝐬  here  and  do  i  have  the  tea  for  you  .  𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 is  back  in  bridgehampton  for  the  summer  ,  living  off  the 𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐎 family  𝟐.𝟑 𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧  net  worth  .  must  be  nice  to  come  back  home  to  the  hamptons  ,  i  wonder  what  her  fellow  class  of  2017  grads  think  of  her  return  .  you  know  ,  she  was  known  around  town  as  the  𝐂𝐎𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄 and  for  bhs  senior  superlatives  pronouns  was  crowned  as  𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐎 𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐏𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐕𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐒 & 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐃 .  i  wonder  if  that  still  holds  true  today  ,  a  lot  can  change  when  you  go  off  to  𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐘 and  study  𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐘  .  either  way  ,  i  bet  she  is  still  very  𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐄 , 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐃 , 𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐈𝐓𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄  . hopefully  this  time  next  year  the  plans  to  𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋 come  true  .  in  the  meantime  ,  i  look  forward  to  seeing  her  blast  𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫 (𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐈 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐄) 𝖇𝖞 𝐤𝐚𝐥𝐢 𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐬  at  every  hamptons  function  .  it’s  going  to  be  a  wild  summer  home  ,  welcome  back  .

i  don’t  think  i’ve  EVER  been  this  excited  to  plot  and interact with a group of people ,  u  all  seem  like  such  beaut  ppl  &  i’m  in  love  already  but   i’m  a  little  . . .  intimidated  ADFJH .  anyways  ,  i’m  not  going  to  ramble  bc  i’m  ready  to  get  down  to  business  ,  i’m  sammie  &  i  go  by  she  /  her  pronouns  !  under  the  cut  is  a  long  bio  on  jules !  i  will  GLADLY  give  you  a  synopsis  on  this  chaotic  mess  pls  just  ask  ,  HERE  is  her  pinterest  board  please  ignore  the  sudden  amount  of  pins  of  just  her  , also  i’m  down  to  plot  here  or  on  discord  ,  my  discord  is  @ᵘ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵃ ᵈᵒˡˡᵃʳ ?#3246  

* / BASICS

full name: juliana kaia dicaprio

nicknames: jules , julie / juli 

age & dob: twenty-one , august 14th , 1998

place of birth: long island , new york .

sexuality: heterosexual ( that she knows off )

bender: cisfemale

* /  MORE BASIC INFO

languages: english, french, some spanish.

religion: catholic

education: high school , majoring in biology at stanford

occupation: unemployed

drinks, smokes, & drugs: all of the above

* / PERSONALITY

zodiac sign: leo

likes: dark chocolate , tea in the morning , white roses , instigating bad situations , wine , black coffee , the smell of freshly brewed coffee , talking with strangers , long travels , adventures , being called “ angel ” , popcorn , quick tex responders , products made with silk , athletes , crime shows / films , crowded rooms , glitter .

dislikes: fake designer bags , people who don’t know how to lie , f , people who wear pearls regularly , long text messages , voicemails , men who are cheap , people who chew with their mouth open , humming ,  thrift shops , water-poof mascara , the smell of grass , extensive planning , and arrogance & stupidity combined .

bad habits: breaking promises to herself & others , not thinking before doing , fixating with her hair when nervous .

secret talent: juggling

fears: aging terribly , being widowed , drowning , being buried alive .

positive traits: alluring , convincing , affectionate , ambitious / devoted , systematic .

negative traits: manipulative , conniving , deceitful , dishonest , subjective .

* / APPEARANCE

tattoos: dagger on right index finger , “ devil ” on left index finger .

piercings: three in each ear , cartilage .

* / FAMILY INFO.

parent names: claire boucher & david dicaprio .

parent relationship: divorced .

sibling names: annalise , ashton , keller , & wade .

sibling relationship: step siblings & half .

children: none .

pets: 2 family dogs on her moms side.

* / BIOGRAPHY

i’m sorry it got long

             𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄𝐑’s entire childhood was spent in the spotlight -- her father was a huge rockstar in the 70's & 80's, and her mother a model . Claire spent her childhood between Florida , California , and New York , attending red carpets , premieres , etc. Claire attended Stanford to obtain a bachelor in science but was in and out of modeling in her teens and early twenties .

            𝐃𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐃 𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐎  lived an affluent life more under the radar . His grandfather is CEO of JD banking , one of the four largest banks in the world . He attended Princeton as the rest of his family did . He got involved in the company business at a very young age as did his brothers , but went on to become the new CEO after his fathers unfortunate passing in 2002 .

            𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 was and will forever be her parents pride & joy . her parents were high school sweethearts & got married young -- at a twenty-two / twenty-three . they had been trying for two years to start their own family but jules’ mother struggled . thanksgiving in the hamptons , a dicaprio family tradition the day is engraved in her mothers memory , in 1997 , they announced to their family that after years of trying , they were pregnant .

            𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 grew up completely pampered ; bi-weekly trips to the nail salon with her mother and annual father-daughter trips . her mother was her best friend until she began morphing jules into what she thought was perfect . making sure she spoke at least one other language , was active in school , extracurriculars , how she presented herself . her mother cared about image due to her own childhood of growing up in the spotlight . besides the near brainwash to fit her mother’s image of perfect , everything was ideal &  ‘ normal ’ up until the summer before her freshman year of high school . her mother discovered the affair her father had been having for months with a woman he did business with . he claimed it was due to the fact that jules’ mother had returned to some normalcy and wanted to work again , modeling and doing some traveling , therefore he ‘ just missed her around ’ . jules was aware of everything going on  , heard the countless nights they spent arguing in the opposite wing of the house , she picked up on her father being late to family dinner because “ he had work to do ” . her parents tried their best to keep her in the dark for the sake of her sanity , innocence , and view on her father . jules went along with it all , the daddy’s girl in her was in denial for all of the months leading up to their divorce . at the end , her mother got full custody of her .

             𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐄 came two “ yes ” parents . everything became a competition between the two , trying to one up the other ; who took jules on the better summer vacation , had the most over the top christmas morning , etc . it  was insanely manipulative & jules there wasn’t a time period where jules felt more alone ; not having a sibling to relate to , she was embarassed to tell her peers the real reason why her parents split , it was so cliché . both parents didn’t take too long to remarry , her father found another stay-at-home wife and her mother lucked out with a lawyer ten years older than she . her step-father had two daughtes & son with whom jules hated in the beginning – it  was a lot to take in and she was used to being the only child . her father went on to have a child with his new wife two years after their marriage . it was all an immense amount of change within seven years .

              𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 for jules had been constantly changing since the news of her father’s affair , she’d spend her summers & holiday’s going back & forth between each parents in the hamptons until her father moved to calabasas to be closer to his wife’s family as soon as the baby was born . jules had always been a wild , reckless child at heart and the divorce between her parents only allowed her to push her limits even more . the two-three years her parents spent processing their divorce were her golden years -- she could not get in trouble with her parents and they never got upset with her . she took advantage of it all and abused drinking , hanging out with boys , you name it . she loved the attention she received from any male figure -- it made up for the lack of attention she was getting from her father once he got the boot .

              𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐄 was where jules found her safe space ; she could be her wild self , far away from home and only a five hour drive from her father that she still rarely sees . she joined a sorority , joined the exec board , was forced to join french club by her mother , all while maintaining a 4.08 gpa .

           *  ` 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈��𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐄 jules has always been a wild child . she’s always had a desire for attention , all eyes & attention on her , though the B I R T H of her uncontrollable desire for attention from males stemmed after her parents divorce . the lack of attention from her father allowed her to realize her dad wasn’t the only one who could spoil her & every man was basically the same . she’s not super close with either of her dads at the moment and sees her father about three times a year , two of which are holidays & every now and then the spontaneous visit from him in cali .  

          𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 is a h u g e  cry baby in the sense that she hates not getting what she wants . its not on purpose most of the time , it’s the way she was raised and the nature of her parents . she’s never had to ask for anything twice & hates doing so . though she’s a huge cry baby , she will try her best to mask her actual tears . she does a good job of seeming innocent , she’s that one friend that is super sus & lies a lot & keeps secrets but somehow is so good at convincing people other wise ? she’s a huge flirt , even when she’s not doing it on purpose , it’s sort of a weird practice or habit she’s grown into ? she feels empowered in the weirdest way of owning men and being able to form their opinion of her for them , this stems from her newly founded daddy issues  it’s more so due to the fact that her relationship with her father began to diminish once he moved out . she is & has been on her “ fuck love ” rampage .

       𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 do whatever she wants and will hide her bad intentions . she lives for chaos , loves enjoys pushing limits & boundaries . she loves a game of cat & mouse / teasing just knowing she has someone in her grip is what helps her sleep at night . she is a bit crazy . . .  the type to watch someone’s snap score go up . def that type to block and unblock someone 238473 timES . she has an underlying need of approval from others and she almost needs to be liked by everyone she meets .

     𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 she wants to model & be a playboy bunny BUT her dad would literally disown her if she didn’t follow her family legacy and attend stanford or yale to use her brains for good . she’s in school to be a pediatrician because at the end of the day she loves children and always wanted to seek a job in the healthcare field . she has plans to attend yale’s medical school after her senior year is complete at stanford .

i really based her off of american beauty & angela in the movie ( if you’ve seen it omg ily ) g

[purplesurveys]

815

At what time of day do you normally feel the best? I love the evening the most. I get to have my coffee, it’s quieter around the house, and it also gets a little bit colder so it’s more fun to hang around by then. Do you normally have to hem pants? I’ve never had to do that before. If I need my pants fixed, I usually ask my lola to do it since she’s good at that kind of stuff. Name one reason why someone should not commit suicide. I can’t speak for other people, but I personally stay because I don’t want to leave Kimi behind and because I’ve seen countless mini-documentaries of parents who were left devastated by their kids taking their own lives. What would you do if you had no one to love and support you? That sounds so fucking bleak. I imagine bringing myself to therapy so I can learn how to deal with such a situation, and so that I at least have one person to talk to. If you didn't have love and support, would you feel life was worth living? No. But that’s why I imagine I’d be going to therapy, so my mind can be changed.

If you had no family nor friends nor money, would you feel life's worth living? These questions are so stressful to mull over and a tad bit triggering lmao, can I pass at this point? If you're unhappy, what would it take to make you fulfilled? Depends on what I need, which differs every time. Sometimes I’d wanna be alone, other times I’d want to be with other people, other times I’d need to drive and take longer routes than usual, or to binge YouTube videos, or a good nap...it’s always different. What was the last thing that upset your stomach? The meds I had to take for my UTI. Feeling poopy was one of its side effects, so even though it didn’t upset my stomach per se I did have to have several trips to the bathroom then. Do you have to go the pharmacy a lot? No, only when something’s wrong with me which doesn’t happen too often. Are you sunburned? I haven’t been sunburned since I was like 10. The tendency just suddenly stopped at some point. Do you wish someone loved you? I have a lot of people who already do, fortunately. Do you call yourself stupid often? Like every other hour lmao. What's a song you love? From Eden - Hozier. Do you miss anyone who was mean to you? Not to my knowledge. I’m glad they aren’t in my life today. Name someone you know who is a cancer survivor. One of my former Filipino teachers in high school. Are you friends with any cancer survivors? I don’t think that I am. Does God often answer your prayers? How was your day today (or yesterday, if it's morning)? It was average. Nothing out of the ordinary happened today but I did like the fact that my parents still left the living room aircon on for most of the day even though summer’s over and the weather’s already begun to be a little colder. Do you wish the sunrise and sunset lasted longer? Not really? I’m fine with the ones we’ve got lol. Would you want to relive your childhood again? Fuck no. It had some nostalgic bits, like the shows I used to watch or me playing outside, but it was far too traumatic for me to miss it as a whole. I’m happy being a grownup.

Were your college years the best years of your life? Not fully. My time in college only peaked by the second half, so it wasn’t all that great. Junior and senior year were very fun and eye-opening, though. Would you rather re-live high school or college? Ooh that’s quite a pickle...both periods had their highs. High school was a lot easier (academically), it was a time when I could fuck up and it was okay, and I found my first group of friends. College was a time of independence, a lot of growing up to do, and I also found my second group of friends. As miserable as I was during my freshman year, I ultimately have to go with college because I hated most of the people in my high school anyway and because I really loved the independence I gained in college, from being able to drive on my own and managing stuff on my own time to being free to choose my class schedule. And also, duh, I passed my dream school? I’d relive my years in UP in a heartbeat. What is the dumbest sports-team mascot you've heard of? Not really familiar with sports mascots to begin with. Are you a sports fan? Err, not really. I’m a pro wrestling fan, but it’s not 100% a sport. Where do you feel like you fit in the most? In my college and in my org. I’m sad that I only get four years with them – three when it comes to my org. Do you hate social classes? Yes. Do you think talent should have anything to do with social class? What? I have no clue what this question is insinuating but lmao of course not. I know some crazy talented people who wouldn’t be considered rich, and I know some bland-ass wealthy people who can’t do anything impressive at all. Name a country who's history you know nothing about. Australia. Name a religion you know nothing or very little about. Zoroastrianism. I only remember the founder. Don't you hate know-it-alls? I hate when they start getting conceited. What is your favorite store at the mall? I love visiting Fully Booked every chance I get. When was the last time you went to the mall? That would be when I had my eye checked last early March, because the clinic I visited was inside the mall. Aside from doing that, I also had late lunch at Marugame Udon which apparently would be the last time I’d have their food for a while, unbeknownst to me :( Do you have a bed or do you sleep on a mattress on the floor? I have a bed. When was the last time you went for a run? LOL never. Have you ever tried hard drugs? No. Which school subject did you hate the most? Back in high school I really hated the advanced math and science classes e.g. chemistry, physics, calculus, trig. In college, I found myself hating philosophy and economics the most. What was the last thing you wore from Aeropostale? I don’t think I ever wore anything from them. Which devotional do you read? I don’t read those. Do you appreciate classic literature? I appreciate and recognize their impact, but I don’t like reading them.

What is something you find strange? People who keep pushing for the All Lives Matter narrative. Cringe. Do you like your natural hair color? Sure. I’ve never actively complained about it, that’s for sure. Would you rather get a pixie cut or get dreadlocks? Pixie cut, because I’m pretty sure getting dreadlocks as a Filipino is a form of cultural appropriation? Would you rather dye your hair or get a perm? Dye it.

Do you keep Christmas lights up year-round? No, we don’t. Have you ever started a new trend? Just me? Lmao no. Do you have any artwork of yours from high school? I definitely don’t. Whenever a teacher would give our artworks back, I crumpled it up as soon as I got it and would throw it away. I just simply rejected all of my attempts to be creative lol. What did you win a scholarship for? I’ve never gotten one. But my university did start implementing free tuition for all undergrads starting in 2017 when I was a sophomore, so it’s kinda like the same thing. Did your college meet your expectations? Yes, and more. UP taught me far more than classroom lessons as it opened my eyes to the more important societal issues happening outside of school. It made me recognize our farmers who never earn the income they deserve; the factory workers stuck in poor working conditions; the jeepney drivers whose work is never respected; the millions of working class Filipinos who simply deserve better;  and the government that is more corrupt than I thought. My college on the other hand taught me to be fearless and to never hesitate to search for, report, and defend the truth, and to disseminate just that to the masses. Bottomline is that words can’t even begin to describe how grateful I am to have studied there and I will always be very much in love with my school. What was the best thing about college? The best thing about mine, at least, was the throng of life lessons and eye-opening realizations it gave me. Each of them has been more valuable than any lesson I learned in the classroom. UP taught me that there were a thousand other issues far more important than problems I face in my own privileged bubble, but that I can help facilitate change if I wanted to. How old were you ten years ago? 12. Easily the worst age I’ve been in. What's the best piece of advice you can give someone ten years younger? Stay. It’ll get better. Not instantly, but it does get better. Do you feel like you are old enough and experienced enough to give advice? I think anyone’s fit to give advice no matter how old they are. Even kids can be quite insightful. The differences just lie on the topics people give advice on. How old were you when you started to feel mature and experienced? 17, after I had a series of shitty stuff happen to me at one point in 2015. When I got past those, I could tell I wasn’t the same person that I was, like, two months back. Were your 20's hell? I’m only in my second year lmao, can you get back to me in eight years? What type of bug do you see the most often in your home? We don’t get a lot of bugs at home, fortunately. We have tons of ants though. Do you put off things until the last minute? If I’m not passionate about the task, yes. Do you have the air conditioning on right now? Nope, just the fan. Is your mom the same size as you? She’s slim but she’s still ever so slightly a bit larger. We can technically share clothes but some of them would still look loose on me.

Does camping appeal to you? I have moods where it does and moods where it doesn’t lol. What color is your sleeping bag? I don’t have one. How often do you pray? Do you surrender to Christ daily? When was the last time you went to church? Do you know any Christians who aren't judgmental? Only a handful, and it’s usually people in my age group. Most of the others suck, and I can say this because I’ve had coooooooountless personal experiences with rude, hypocritical, sexist, homophobic, and transphobic Christians and Catholics. Do you believe there are any good people in the world? Of course. What's one thing you are scared of? Flying cockroaches.

[httplovecraft1890]

Tomie Head Canon Extravaganza

"'Don't talk about life or death,' she said. 'I've had enough of both.'" - The Waterboys, “A Girl Called Johnny” (1983)

I haven’t actually seen one of these floating around, and most of this is honestly just kind of fic material, but I figured I’d go ahead and just put up a general mapping of Tomie’s personal history that I recently sat down and came up. While it will be used for my own stories, anyone is free to use aspects of it if they so wish for their own stuff (RP, etc.), and while I understand some might be turned off by ‘explaining the monster’ given Ito’s penchant for not giving his audiences explanations, it was a fun mental exercise.

(Unknown who the original artist is, but I believe they’ve deleted their Tumblr account since making it)

Family History

“Gonna hang myself from my family tree.” - Sparks, “In My Family” (1974)

The Kawakami family’s origins lie in the southern half of Japan in what is modern day Shimane prefecture before they traveled further south to the port of Nagasaki, where for much of their history they remained as a family of fishermen. In 1588, they were among the first to be converted by the Portuguese at their diocese in the region, a faith that Tomie’s father maintained up until his death in 1974. Her mother’s family, the Hashimotos, had historically always been soldiers and could trace her ancestry to samurai in the employ of the Tokugawa shogunate in the city of Sagamihara in Kanagawa prefecture. 

Her father, Abraham Kawakami (1937-1974) - Japanese Christians oftentimes adopt Western names or will utilize both a traditional one as well as another and there was no way I was missing out an opportunity to have her dad’s name mean ‘father of many’ - was part of the country’s noveau riche that had sprung up during the post-World War II American occupation that benefited with the abolition of the aristocracy and breaking up of the zaibatsu following their nation’s defeat. The Kawakami family under the enterprise of Abraham’s dad, Peter, changed professions and began a steel plant back in their old homeland of Shimane, based out of Tokyo. With an eager foreign backer ready to help rebuild the islands to prevent the spread of Communism, Peter’s competitiveness and aggressive but fair business practices led his family to wealth virtually overnight. Despite this, Peter always had poor health throughout his life and was really only building an empire so that his son might take over in his stead after he passed on. His mother, Mary (also descended from a line of Japanese Christians), was a homemaker and did not adjust well to being a CEO’s wife, preferring to avoid functions as much as she could

Tomie’s mother, Chouko Hashimoto (1932-present), was one of the most popular actresses - and sex symbols - in the 1950s and 1960s in Japan, starring in everything from TV shows, movies, and even radio programs, getting her start in the 1951-1957 historical soap opera, How Silent Fall the Cherry Blossoms, set during the Meiji Restoration at just 19. Chouko’s, and Tomie’s, good looks are somewhat genetic as her father, Toshiro Hashimoto, was a prestigious pilot for the Imperial Japanese Army Air Service and was known for appearing in news broadcast reels as propaganda for the war due to his clean cut, handsome appearance. He did not live to see the end of the war, however, and his plane was shot down during opening hours of the Battle of Okinawa (April 1, 1945). Though she would always deny it publicly in interviews, her radio body of work was directly inspired by her mother’s, Ai, role as a ‘Tokyo Rose’ during the final days of the war (a term used by Americans to refer to female Japanese broadcasters fluent in English who tried to goad them into deserting the armed services). 

Despite Peter’s religiosity, it was something that only came intermittently to Abraham. Scarred by the destruction of Hiroshima and Nagasaki at the war’s end, for a long time he was a lapsed Catholic, and didn’t take going to church particularly seriously - a source of friction between his parents and himself. It also didn’t help that in his father’s waning years before losing his battle with stomach cancer, Abraham took to all sorts of debauchery and heavy drinking, the latter causing his own inner demons to unleash themselves for the rest of his short life.

Chouko and Abraham met at a Christmas party hosted by Kawakami Metals in Tokyo in the winter of 1968 and hit it off. Quickly seeing one another for casual hookups, the situation became much more serious in early 1969 when Chouko found out she was pregnant, and a marriage ceremony was quickly held to save public face for both parties (in Abraham’s case especially important as Peter had died not long into the new year and he had been confirmed by the board of his family’s company as the new CEO). Given Japanese social mores, it was effectively the end of Chouko’s career as she would be expected to retire and raise the baby, as well as any other she and Abraham might have in the future - something that greatly disappointed and angered her. 

Tomie was born on October 31, 1969 in Tokyo, Japan (this is a reference to her first appearance in the shoujo magazine Monthly Halloween, as well as being 18 years from that year, a safe bet to assume the first chapter’s story takes place in as there is no mention of DNA testing on her remains - something that became commonplace as part of police procedures roughly at around this time). 

Her baptized name is Anna - a diminutive of Hannah, ‘favor’ or ‘grace’ in Hebrew - was a name her dad would refer to as, but something her mother wouldn’t, and was a source of tension between the two of them (given she was not a Christian), something that became more important to Abraham in the wake of his dad’s passing. This is a reference to the movie Tomie: Forbidden Fruit; the bit about her family being Christian is a nod to a throwaway scene from Tomie: Beginning where she quotes the bible, of all things.

Though much more bearable when her father was alive, Chouko’s treatment of Tomie as a child was always one of general detachment and disinterest at best, something that grew into actual abuse once Abraham’s illness, alcoholism, caught up with him in 1974 when after a night of heavy drinking at a party hosted at his family’s home, ended up with him drowning in his own vomit, only to be discovered by a 5-year-old Tomie the following morning.

Despite never marrying again, Chouko mistakenly believed herself set for life as she had taken the Kawakami surname, and the company’s founding documents made provisions for the family to receive a cut of the profits once control had been turned over to the board of directors. Never one to manage money well, despite the stipend she received, she and Tomie eventually found themselves living barely above the poverty line.

Childhood

“Mama's gonna make all your nightmares come true. Mama's gonna put all her fears into you. Mama's gonna keep you right here under her wing. She won't let you fly, but she might let you sing. ” - Pink Floyd, “Mother” (1979)

Unlike the girl that the manga-reading public is familiar with, Tomie growing up was a much different character at first. Despite being photogenic, she had an incredibly shy nature that often meant she would not open up to others easily, something that ultimately evolved into outright being emotionally stunted due to the frequent and varying types of abuse she received at the hands of a mother who hated her, seeing her as the reason her future had collapsed.

With the idea that talking = being hurt seared into her, Tomie’s school life was not much better than being at home. Her beautiful appearance meant that girls were frequently jealous of being shown up by her and her reticent demeanor towards others meant that boys saw her as stuck up or seeing herself above them. With school administrations loathe to address bullying, Tomie was an easy target for her peers to pick on. This only served to further the idea in her mind that human beings are capable only of cruelty and that kindness by others is only as good as how much they believe it will benefit them to act that way.

Reiko Mizutani was Tomie’s first - and only - real friend. They met in middle school in their first year, with Reiko being the first person who ever tried to reach out to her and establish some kind of human connection. Despite many of her initial attempts being rebuffed, Tomie ultimately relented in the hopes she would finally be left alone, but quickly latched onto the other girl when it became apparent that someone, at last, was treating her well. Even if perhaps on some level she believed it was a lie, it was a worthwhile delusion to hold, making her the one exception to Tomie’s rule about mankind. She’s also the only victim of hers that Tomie has ever felt any kind of remorse in eating/absorbing.

Speaking of Reiko, her efforts at getting Tomie to come out of her shell are also the very same thing that set her on her eventual downward spiral. At first simply trying to avoid further harassment, it became readily apparent to Tomie that it was easy to get things out of others by using false promises or at least feeding them enough bread crumbs that they’d be strung along by her for no other reason than they felt she was attractive or they happened to be intimidated by her. The older she became, the worse she got, though she she always did spare Reiko her later attitude when they were in private together.

The positive feedback loop of being awful to others yet simultaneously cowing them never made much of a difference at home. Even if she could put on a brave act while at school, it didn’t matter when facing Chouko’s wrath. Tomie being on the receiving end of physical violence didn’t begin with men, it instead began with her mother hitting her for minor mistakes, using her firsts or the closes object to her. Tomie’s numerous ‘boyfriends’ often remarked that the only thing imperfect about her were bruises or scars.

There was nothing particularly special about her relationship with Yamamoto or Mr. Takagi; she’d cheated on those she’d been in relationships before, but it was the first time that it had ever blown up in Tomie’s face. Despite not caring much for Yamamoto personally, it was Takagi who made the first move, which Tomie did reciprocate (the signature mole underneath her eye vaguely reminded Takagi of a porn star he liked) and being middle-aged meant that his tenure at Tomie’s school gave him a bit of money to throw around for compensated dating.

Manipulative and cruel as she ended up becoming in spite of Reiko’s best efforts, Tomie’s fear that she was pregnant was correct: she was indeed with child and afraid of the consequences, not only from the rest of society, but her mother especially. His later status as a thrall of Tomie’s posing as her father on numerous occasions is meant to reflect his attempted shirking of responsibility.

It fudges with the time frame a bit, but Tomie’s (first) death was on July 13, 1987 occurred exactly one week when they were supposed to go on summer break and the events of the first chapter occurred shortly after class 1-B’s return in August.  (This date in particular was chosen as it’s inverse of Junji Ito’s birthday July 31).

Life After Death

“I don't want a cycle of recycled revenge, I don't want to follow Death and all of his friends." - Coldplay, “Death and All His Friends” (2008)

Despite being close to her father growing up, it turns out his conception of the afterlife was wrong - or at least not applicable to her. Tomie ended up in Meido, or the Buddhist version of hell with some Chinese folklore tossed in. After crossing the River Sanzu to proceed onto the afterlife, Tomie’s soul immediately faces problems from the underworld’s bureaucracy. Namely that her life was a complicated one and that’s seriously effecting their judgment on her fate. None of the kings present can decide on what to do with her or what level she should end up on. Her lecherous and selfish behavior is something that would’ve normally damned her... but the circumstances of her death shock them. Betrayed by not only her teacher, but a classroom that almost entirely hated her? It was clearly an unwarranted punishment from mortals, an idea that they balk at. However, what seals Tomie’s fate is that among those who betrayed her is someone whose life is relatively free of any kind of bad karma: Reiko. Unsure of what to do in extenuating circumstances such as this, the kings make their decision.

With no options left, they kick Tomie out of Meido and onto a diferent plane entirely: that of the more traditional Japanese afterlife, Yomi. This, too, is much like the Western conception of purgatory though without any kind of the fire or brimstone seemingly found in the former location. Meido’s judges have determined that the only being who has the right to see Tomie’s fate decided satisfactorily is the primordial goddess Izanami.

Izanami, annoyed that this trivial matter is being brought before her, almost does away with Tomie’s soul entirely but she stops her, mentioning that the two of them are kindred. Since Izanami’s bet with her brother-husband eons ago saw her committed to killing more humans than he could bring into the world, Tomie believes that the only sensible solution is to have someone working in the mortal realm who can help expedite the process of creating strife. After all, the terms and conditions of the bet were vague and there was no specification from either party that the same soul passing on had to be different. With that in mind, as well as having her own deep seated desire to hurt men, Izanami acquiesces.

Tomie lays out her terms: she will be allowed to return to life as an agent of Izanami’s on her own terms. She cannot die permanently though her physical body may be destroyed, will not age unless she wills it, luck must forever fall in her favor, and she can manipulate anyone she chooses. Izanami agrees since to her something like this is trivial and it allows her to get back at Izanagi, but she requires one last thing: proof that Tomie is willing to uphold her end of the bargain. To that end, Tomie offers her the soul of her just formed child as compensation and is allowed to return to earth, setting up the events of the original Tomie.

Abilities and Powers

“I thought that I was in heaven But I was sure surprised. Heaven help me, I didn’t see The devil in your eyes.” - Elvis Presley, “(You’re the) Devil in Disguise” (1963)

Functionally speaking, Tomie’s manipulation of others works like she were an emotional vampire: the other person must be emotionally vulnerable, just like she was when Reiko met her years ago, for her to have an ‘in.’ If at some point you ‘fall in love with her’ or are weak enough to be unable to resist her, there’s nothing you can do to rid yourself of her until it’s too late. This ability is also not based on sexual attraction either. “Orphan Girl” proves that she can manipulate people based on nothing more than platonic affection as well, so straight women or gay men can’t even consider themselves safe.

Tomie prefers to revive herself from her own body rather than absorbing others. There are a few reasons for that, but the foremost one is that it’s simply less taxing on her. The other is that occupying the same body means sharing the same soul as another, and this is the reason why Tomies who are generated in others are far less cooperative than those who come from Tomie Prime (for lack of a better term). Traits from the previous girl’s life often find themselves seeping into this new version of Tomie and it’s something she absolutely despises. 

Eating human flesh as a quicker way of healing herself is, obviously, not something she agreed to do, but something Izanami forced her to do as it 1) amused her and 2) didn’t want Tomie getting too arrogant about her newfound powers.

Despite what was mentioned above about Tomie’s preferred regeneration methods, there is a benefit to taking in those who aren’t her. Tomie’s memories function much like a cloud computing system - they’re all accessible by any of the ghost clones and still exist even in the inevitable death of those who’re using them. Similarly, skill sets that Tomie could gain such as being able to speak/read/write English fluently, learning how to be a stewardess, the intimate knowledge of a particular mathematician become hers once her mind mingles with another’s. Once again similarly to a vampire, though, Tomie must manipulate the girl into letting her absorb them into herself (seen arguably in the manga chapter “Hair” and a frequent subject of the Tomie movies). She does this, in true Hollywood movie monster fashion, by keeping all the souls of the girls she’s absorbed over the years (or men who’ve been manipulated by her and died) to further her own abilities’ growth, thus explaining why she seems to get stronger as the series progresses. They are collected in a place her mind can sink into once it’s damaged enough called the ‘In-Between Place,’ a kind of personal fiefdom she has in Yomi itself.

Her effect on men, or women, who become attracted to her is very similar to a heavy sleep, with few being able to recall any details of their experiences while under her sway, but going from relatively normal and functioning within society to raving lunatics hellbent on her murder.

Unlike characters such as Deadpool or Wolverine, Tomie isn’t immune to the pain of being hurt. Getting cut, stabbed, electroctued, drowned, beaten with an object, etc. all still feel just as horrible as they would to a regular human, it’s just that they aren’t permanent obstacles. 

Shintoism places a high premium on the phrase “cleanliness is next to godliness.” The worlds of the living and dead are not meant to intertwine and historically even people who so much as touched corpses like butchers, graveyard workers, etc. formed an underclass called burakumin who were treated as the dregs of society (and soft discrimination still continues to this day despite the Meiji reforms abolishing the shogunate’s caste system). Fire being one of the few things that kill Tomie is an extension of this idea, as a common superstition is that corpses that are buried or left to rot above ground can become haunts for evil spirits, but turning someone to ashes prevents that possibility. It’s her one Achilles’ heel due to the paradoxical nature of her origin.

Though Tomie occasionally refers to herself as a ‘demon,’ as I explained early on, this is not accurate: she’s a ghost, albeit a physical one. Calling herself an oni, though, is more of her cheekily referring to the idea that her purpose is, technically speaking, a divine one... just in a very twisted manner as oni are often in depictions of versions of the afterlife among Japan’s main religions of Shintoism and Buddhism acting as tormentors or obstacles to be overcome in some fashion.

Her luck powers are not readily apparent, usually not even to her, and they often simply just ‘happen’ rather than occur by her will. Whether it be from a traveler who just happens to pass by her, surviving something just long enough to spin it in her favor, etc. there’s usually an out for Tomie, especially as her strength grows.

Once she’s powerful enough, Tomie probably could use men to revive herself with - or even those who aren’t ethnically Japanese - but she’s not quite there yet.

Tomie doesn’t like for there to be too many copies of herself at any given time if she can help it. Not only does it put suspicion on her presence in multiple locations at once, it’s something of a mental drain on her to be split into so many different bodies at once.

Similarly, while she hypothetically could leave Japan and go abroad, Tomie doesn’t dare do so out of the fear that at least one version of herself will die for good as her magic might very well be tied to the land itself. But, again, if she were to grow stronger then who knows what she could do...

Miscellaneous

"...Look at me, I'm all the fishes in the sea." - Fiona Apple, “Daredevil” (2012)

If you scrape underneath the surface, there really isn’t much of Tomie from a personality perspective. Even with her immortality, she never really ever developed a personality or interests. In many ways she’s still the terrified little girl cowering underneath her sheets at night, wondering if her mother will find an excuse to hurt her. Her sociopathy is learned, not inherent, but she still lacks genuine interests other than hoarding wealth just the same.

That said, her demand of caviar and foie gras is something of a personal joke for her. They were Chouko’s favorite luxury food items and she would often lament that she could no longer afford them after Abraham’s death. Even after all this time, Tomie is using her powers to spite her mother by obtaining something she knows she can’t have.

Despite the fact she seems virtually fearless on the surface, outside of Chouko, Tomie has developed an intense entomophobia (fear of insects) and helminthophobia (fear of worms) ever since she returned to life. If she’s partially healed like, say, a decapitated head she can still feel something like a cockroach nibbling at her flesh. Despite this, she does feel a spiritual connection so to speak with their hardiness.

The only man she’s ever genuinely loved was her father. She’s less angry at him dying than she is of him leaving her alone with her mother. All others are expendable tools at best to further her own goals.

Her favorite flowers are lilies, owing to Abraham’s childhood nickname for her (also ironic symbolism as white lilies are a common item in funeral arrangements in Japan as symbols of death).

She probably does enjoy sex, but is almost certainly highly selective of which of her thralls gets the ‘honor’ of touching her in that way (though innuendo is likely employed by her to get those who are more hesitant than others to give in to her). Even if she does find her partner agreeable, she probably still puts him down anyway, but playing it off as a kink.

In a break with many other Tomie fans, I don’t particularly think she’s lesbian; I’d personally phrase her sexuality as “doom” more than anything else. Men are her ‘preference,’ if it can be termed that, to stomp their egos into the dirt and ruin their lives, but if employing her usual tricks on women is necessitated in some manner, she wouldn’t hesitate to do so. Any perceived gentleness towards them is more due to having to break down Japan’s traditional sexual mores and get them to lower their guard, however.

She sees herself as personally being above morality, hence why disturbing chapters like “Boy” portray her as being overly physical with someone much younger than herself, while in “Passing Demon” an 8-year-old copy sees no issue with trying to seduce someone much older. That kind of thing is for humans - something she doesn’t believe herself to be anymore.

That said, in the In-Between Place, Tomie has kept Reiko’s spirit ‘alive’ as best she can. Unlike its ‘roommates,’ it’s the closest thing to how she was in life that’s still possible for her in her prison. If there’s anyone other than her father that Tomie can said to have loved, it would probably be Reiko, and she’s the only person Tomie probably romantically had any affection for (not that she would recognize it as such).

The laugh she’s often portrayed as having, a light, airy thing meant to imitate a noblewoman’s speech pattern, is actually something she manufactured. Tomie’s laugh - still possible to coax out of her if you surprise her well enough - is extremely dorky, including snorting and all.

[graziadiocenterilpostino]

“Do As I Say, Do As She Does”, An Anonymous Student Essay

This essay was written for an Italian course last semester. The instructor thought it was exemplary and thought it would be an excellent idea to share it with a larger public. The student agreed to it, with the condition of remaining anonymous. We therefore publish it here with minimal edits due to the different medium and audience for which it was originally intended. 

“Yep, the ol’ man was a gigolo”, Papa says with a smoker’s chuckle and tears in his yellow, beady eyes. He’s remembering his father, Gaetano “Tommy” S***, or Big Papa as he is known by the great-grandkids, seeming to forget that I’ve heard the story he’s about to tell dozens of times already. Sometimes I wonder if he’s aware of this fact, but he proceeds to tell me anyway in a subtle attempt to admit just how much his father’s infidelity had affected him as a young man. Lately, though, I’ve been thinking that Papa is speaking less about the weakness of his dad, and more about the strength of his mother.

My great-grandmother’s name is Rita, but I never knew that until third grade when I attended her funeral. We all called her Noni instead, a name synonymous with the smell of Entenmann’s, Dove soap, and the beautiful garden of lemons, oranges, and roses surrounding my great-grandparents’ house on Ellery Street in San Pedro. She greeted us with the same delight at every Sunday lunch, stepping out of her kitchen to squeeze our cheeks and cry out joyfully, “Carme-nooch! Vincenzo! Gino!”. Her eyes would sparkle as she embraced us, and she gave the warmest hugs known to mankind. She greeted everyone like this, and in our big Italian family, that meant over twenty people on any given Sunday. On holidays, at least forty people would show up, cramped together in the living room to enjoy her delicious cooking and endless supply of stories. Anywhere you looked, the walls were protected by a cross, or a statue of Mary, or guardian angels. Always surrounding these items were pictures of S*** relatives, symbolizing the central role of faith in our family. Noni’s strong adherence to the Catholic beliefs had made her a welcoming and forgiving person, who treated everyone with the same level of respect and affection no matter what. It was no wonder why she was able to attract such great company through all the years up to her passing at the age of eighty-five, ten years ago. But it was only within the last five years, once Papa started to reveal more information to me during our back-porch talks, that I truly realized the sacrifices Noni had made because of her faith, and the very different role religion had played in my great-grandfather’s life.

By the time I was old enough to know who Big Papa was, he was already disabled (which, according to my grandfather, was the only reason he stopped messing around with other women).     I rarely saw him get up from his enormous throne of brown leather, but when he did, everyone made a big deal out of it. He still had the aura of a king, despite being in his eighties, which I’m told was passed down to him from his father, the first Carmen S***. My great-great-grandfather  Carmen was known as “Capodochiaro” by the fishing community in San Pedro, which in his dialect meant “king of the beach”. He came to America in 1913 from Ischia, Italy, bringing with him a childhood’s length of experience in fishing and specifically, net making. Over his lifetime he had owned ten commercial fishing boats in the Los Angeles Harbor, and was so successful that at one point the New Zealand government tried to recruit him to teach their fishermen net making. At his wife’s request, the Capodochiaro refused. Big Papa was raised in San Pedro to continue the family business and maintained three of the boats. His work ethic was just as strong as his father’s, which he then passed down to my grandfather. To this day, Papa can never seem to emphasize enough his father’s ability to show him what it meant to work and take pride in your work at such a young age.

When he was not working, however, Big Papa was a lot more reckless. He nearly smoked and drank himself to death at several points in his life and, as mentioned, got himself involved with other women. Yet he did all of this while maintaining a close relationship with God. The irony of these two truths occurring at once reminds me of the irony involved with certain initiations into the Mafia. In the video we watched on Michael Franzese, he describes the “made man” ceremony in which a picture of a saint was burned in his hand, a sacrilegious act to initiate him into a life of greed, deceit, and horrific violence. At the same time, these individuals identified themselves as proud Roman-Catholics!

On a smaller scale, Big Papa displayed the same dichotomy between his faith and his actions. Though he rarely attended church himself, my great-grandfather was a strong believer in Christ and made sure to put my grandfather and his siblings through Catholic school and all of the necessary sacraments. It really shocked me, to say the least, when I found out that the man who had made such an effort to instill Catholic beliefs and morals into his son was the same man to make him sit in the car during his pre-work “errands”. Thankfully, reading Jerre Mangione’s Mount Allegro has enabled me to explore this behavior in new ways. For instance, Mangione describes his relatives as having Catholicism “so deeply ingrained in their bones that they could violate some of its man-made rules without the slightest feeling of guilt”. Was my great-grandfather so confident in his faith that he could violate the     seventh commandment without remorse? If so, why was he then so adamant on raising my grandfather “by the book”? Once again, Mangione provides an explanation. In the same passage, he proclaims that “the young had yet to prove their devotion by going to church and following the rules of the Catholic Church”. In other words, the adults had done their time, and had reached the point at which they were essentially best friends with God, no longer His servants. In Big Papa’s case, he had served as an altar boy, got married in a church, and that was enough for him. His only responsibility after that was to put his kids through the same experience, for their own good and protection under God. It did not faze him that he was sinning in his own life or violating Holy Matrimony. My great-grandfather viewed God as a best    friend who he would often disappoint, but who would always forgive him. His greatest contribution to the friendship was offering his beloved children the chance to grow into honorable men and women, to do as he said and not as he did.

Noni’s approach was similar and different. She certainly made an equal if not greater effort to raise her children within the Catholic faith. However, as stated earlier, she practiced what   she preached; and it was because of this adherence to the faith that Noni felt obligated to sacrifice so much. For example, her propensity to forgive her husband for all of his affairs could only be attributed to a woman seeking to live her life in the image of Christ. It also revealed her devotion to her children, as she believed divorcing my great-grandfather would only create problems for Papa and his siblings down the road. She stuck it out because she truly believed it was the right thing to do for her children, not herself. For over half a century she slept under the same roof as the man who had betrayed her so many times, so that her family could remain unified. Her marriage may have been hanging by a thread, but Noni’s sacrifices proved to be worthwhile. Our massive Italian family stayed intact for all of her life, all thanks to her selflessness that she maintained because of her devotion to God and the Catholic faith.

When Noni passed away, Big Papa’s health was in steep decline. His mind was deteriorating, and he had lost almost all of his short-term memory. Because of this, he would always ask for my great-grandmother, and the adults would reassure him that she was on vacation. They never told her she had passed away, but my grandfather is convinced that he knew. Big Papa passed away on her birthday, within the same year.

Papa never complains about his upbringing as a child aware of his dad’s indiscretions. He  never feels sorry for himself, instead only for his mother. But he also expresses extreme gratitude for Big Papa and reassures me that although his shortcomings as a husband went without saying, he was still a “great father”. This conclusion used to strike me as odd, but now I am able to  understand it better. My grandfather inherited his mother’s warm heart and his father’s work ethic, the former allowing him still to appreciate the latter without resentment. His unconditional love for his father was the same kind of love given by Noni, who took Christ as her example.

I would like to make clear that I have nothing but love for my great-grandfather. There is so much more to him that was left out of this essay, for the sake of relevance, that I wish I could have included. I understand that people are complicated, and this essay was in no shape or form a  means to speak ill of Big Papa. This side of him was discussed solely for me to explore his relationship with God and how it differed from that of my great-grandmother. From everything I’ve been told, I can say without a doubt that my great-grandfather was a good man. He had flaws like   the rest of us, in some areas more than others, but I know in the end he truly loved his wife.

[ispyamoose]

Last year, I let go of one of my best friends of 18 years.

This requires some backstory. So, here’s the tl;dr: this friend had lied to me on multiple occasions, betrayed my trust by revealing secrets I confided in private to others, lied about me to her family, used me unfairly as her therapist, treated me like I was her mother, (to a very, very unhealthy degree) and used her depression and anxiety as a front to be a terrible person to others. This wasn’t all at once, but rather over the course of our 18 years.

To clarify before I jump in: I have a combination of c-PTSD and “regular” PTSD, OCPD, anxiety, and depression myself. This goes beyond her having bad days. This is literally her treating people like shit 24/7. Again, this was an 18-year friendship.  

We met in middle school, in 6th grade. For those who don’t know, I grew up developmentally delayed, and was in Special Education from Pre-K through the end of 4th grade. I went through testing to be de-classified, as the school challenged my father’s reasoning for wanting me pulled from the system. My father declined the transitional year I could have had, and I was in a completely different school district in 5th grade. My delays were blatantly noticeable to anyone who wasn’t me. I still had issues I needed help with. Most of them were socially. This didn’t really abate until college, though it lessened a bit in my 2nd half of high school. This information is relevant because my friend, we’ll call her J, and I originally didn’t like each other. I thought she was uptight and rude, and she thought I was childish and poking fun at her, because I’d occasionally prod her backpack and talk to her when she wanted to be left alone.

I don’t really know what changed, but in the 2nd half of the year, we struck up a real conversation one morning. We were hanging outside the school, before we were able to go inside and get to homeroom. Turns out we had a fair amount in common, and we became friends. We both had obscure home lives, although her parents were still married and mine were divorced. We both had varying degrees of childhood trauma, and neither of us judged the other for their idiosyncrasies. At least, not back then.

The bulk of our arguments in middle school were petty and dumb. We lacked girl code, and boys that we “dated” for like 2 weeks or a month, or boys that we liked, were considered free game once you were done with them, or if they were unclaimed. I never really dated anyone that girls in my friend circle dated first, but they always seemed to “date” boys that I had been with and I was supposed to be okay with it. (By date, I mean calling each other on the phone, talking on AIM, occasional group outings to movies and school dances. It was not much of anything, if I’m thinking about it.) This lack of girl code led to many a disagreement. The rest of them were for what we thought was backstabbing or flatleaving. Basically, being ditched for other friends, and petty rumors being spread among our circle.

My mom came out to me in between 8th and 9th grade. J didn’t hide anything from her family, and told them. At the time, they were quite homophobic. They still let her hang out with me, but always had some stupid judgments to make about my mom, without ever really meeting her and knowing her. This put a bit of a strain on J and me, because I was privy to the crap they were saying behind my back, or in voices low enough they thought I couldn’t hear. If I’m being honest, I think I took out some of this frustration on J, because she never spoke up to them about it. But, at 14/15 years old, I understand why she didn’t.

J moved to a different area of our state in sophomore year of high school, right before Christmas. I was also going through my goth phase. J and her family were Roman Catholic, and went to church every Sunday. (at least, until they moved) Because of this, J was concerned about my goth phase. She thought I was changing in a negative way, and made fun of me for how I dressed and some of the music I was listening to. (Fallen by Evanescence and Hybrid Theory by Linkin Park were two of my favorite albums at that time.) When J moved, we still talked on AIM all the time, and we visited each other every month or so.

At her 17th birthday that April, our other mutual best friend, M, and I both went to her house for a sleepover. The next day, her party was outside, and it was warm out. She had 2 of her new friends over, we’ll call them J2 and N, and her new boyfriend, A. J, M, J2, N, A, and I were all getting along. J had the idea to fill up water balloons as anchors for the blanket we were sitting on outside. She also wanted to throw one at her bf A, because it was hot out and he apparently volunteered at a fire station. (I don’t remember the tagline here, she just thought it would be funny to catch him off guard.) Her mom said not to throw any, but we were still allowed to use them as anchors. 

When A came, J decided she still wanted to throw a couple at him. She had M throw the first one. She missed completely and it hit the grass. J threw the second one, and it hit A square on his shirt. It wasn’t a big one. It was maybe the size of a baseball. A laughed hysterically, and said it cooled him down on this unusually hot day. We laughed and continued to listen to music. On our way back home, I noticed her parents were a bit curt, but they were often like that, so I thought nothing of it. A week went by, and I hadn’t heard from J. 

Then, I got an email from her, saying that she was no longer allowed to be friends with me after what I did at her party, and that I was a bad influence. Mind you, I hadn’t even DONE anything! So I sent one back reminding her of that, but she said my lies weren’t going to work this time, and that was it. About 2 weeks later, in the middle of May, she sent a message to me on AIM, apologizing and saying that her parents frequently read her email, that she had to say that, and that she wanted to be secret friends until she could sweet-talk her parents into letting her be friends with me again.

I was a pushover for a long time. I disagreed with this, because I hadn’t done anything. I said this, but when she persisted, I let it go, because secret friends was better than nothing imo. This continued for about 4 months. I would ask every couple weeks if she’d talked to her parents yet, and she kept saying it wasn’t the right time. Finally, in the beginning of October, I’d decided I’d had enough. I went through a lot of trauma in the past 2 years by that point (sexual assault(s)) and was cutting as a cry for help. Nobody noticed, and anybody who did, didn’t question it. But I confided the truth in her, and she called me disgusting, asking how I could ever do that to myself, that I was gross and should be ashamed of myself, that I was warped. So I told her to fuck off, that I was done being her “secret” friend. She wasn’t a friend at all. She’d just become a holier-than-thou bitch, is what I thought at 16. So we didn’t talk for about 6 months, maybe closer to a year.

After all those months went by, I went on my LiveJournal, (yep, really dating myself here, lol) and noticed I still had her as a friend on there. I was curious and looked at her journal. I saw posts about her grandmother passing away, and her cat. I commented and told her I was sorry for her losses. She messaged me on AIM, and somehow we became friends again. I told her I couldn’t be secret, that she had to talk to her parents. I also found out during this time, that the reason they thought I ruined her party was because she lied and told them I threw the balloon. She had never told them the truth. I told her a stipulation was that she had to come clean. She said she would. Her parents must’ve let her be friends with me again, because we were talking, and during the spring in our senior year, she came to visit me. She never invited me to any parties or anything, but we talked regularly again. I figured things were fine.

When we first became friends back in 6th grade, she revealed to me that she had depression, and was on medication for it. She probably told me that because she didn’t want me to think she was weird. I didn’t. In 8th grade, she told me she had panic and anxiety disorder. She would occasionally have panic attacks, and took medication for them to calm her down. Everyone has their problems, so I never judged. This will become relevant later.

During the summer between graduating high school and starting college, I lost my virginity, and stupidly had a pregnancy scare. Nothing came of it, it was just that I was being too careless with the guy I was with, and my periods were always irregular, so I had to check up on it. I confided that in her, and said I didn’t know for sure, and that it was probably negative, but had to wait to test. I told her she couldn’t tell a SOUL. She was also the ONLY person I told. A week later, I hung out with a friend of mine that she had also been friendly with. We’ll call her A2. I was driving us around, on our way to the mall or movies or something, and out of nowhere, A2 said, “Hey, I don’t want to sound insensitive or anything, but I heard you were pregnant?” And I asked her where she heard that. “Oh, K  told me J told her.” (K is another mutual friend. We hadn’t talked a ton in senior year, but apparently J and K still kept in touch after J moved.) I was LIVID. #1, there was only a possibility, and #2, I SWORE HER TO SECRECY! By this point, my testing had been negative, so I was able to add that it turned out negative, I was just ruling it out. So not only did J break my trust, but she instead told people I was pregnant, rather than I was taking a test to be sure.

I went on AIM and laid into her. I was FURIOUS. She swore she didn’t tell anyone, but I knew she was lying because she was the ONLY person I’d told. I said that to her. And also that K had said she got the information STRAIGHT from J. I told her I had the proof, explained my proof, and told her to quit while she was behind. I told her how hurt I was that she LIED behind my back, and completely broke my trust. She begged me not to cut her out. I said fine, because by that point, we’d been friends 6 years, and how could I just cut out someone I knew for 6 years? (lol, whoops) I told her she’d need to earn my trust back, but that I’d still be friends with her. This is when I stopped considering her my best friend. My trust was shattered, and no matter how much she earned it back, that was a very hurtful betrayal I didn’t think I could come fully back from.

I still drove to visit her every few months, we would hang out for the day, and continued to be friends. In 2008 or 2009, I found out she was having a birthday party after several years of not doing anything, and was excited. I really wanted to redeem myself. I’d done a LOT of growing up, and most of my social issues were at bay. I was a completely different person. I thought her mom was finally starting to warm up to me, but wondered about her dad. I always wondered why they still didn’t seem to really like me, but never really asked about it. Then J told me the party was canceled because not enough people were able to come. I was disappointed, but told her I’d see her the week after and we’d go to the movies. 

I forget how the next conversation came about, but we were talking on AIM. I think I caught her in a lie about her party. She’d told me it was canceled, but she mentioned something about her party. I’d asked, and she said, “Well, I wanted to invite you but my dad gave a hard no, after how you ruined my last party and he didn’t want you to start trouble” I got my confirmation that he still didn’t like me. That was enough right there. But then I thought, wait, what the hell does she mean I ruined her party? I made her swear to tell them the truth! So I called her out on it. I said, “Wait...I thought you told them the truth. You promised me you did, swore up and down you did. YOU KNOW I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING!” She got really quiet. So I asked her, “Do you mean to tell me that not ONLY did you lie to me about the party being canceled, you never told your parents the truth about the party? Is that why they still hate me? All this time I thought they didn’t like me because my mom was gay!” She said, “Well, up until recently they weren’t a fan of that, but...no. I never told them. I chickened out. I didn’t want them to be disappointed in me!” I was so angry, and asked her how I could be friends with someone who never told me the truth, and made me out to be this terrible person when I’m not. I thought it was completely unfair that her parents were refusing to get to know me as a person for things I never did.

I forget why I didn’t cut her out right then and there, but yet again, all I thought of was that I couldn’t cut loose a strong friendship of 8-9 years, and kept her as a friend. The next year, though, she asked me to sleep over. She said she’d gotten approval from her parents. I was coming to see her about monthly, and her parents had finally warmed up to me a bit, it seemed. I was getting closer to her mom, who saw how I was being treated at home by my dad and stepmom. The sleepover went without a hitch, as we were watching movies all night and playing with makeup. 2010 went by without much incident in our friendship. The most that happened was that she would occasionally come to visit me for sleepovers, but would get panic attacks and have to drive back home. I was being treated worse and worse at home, so I was confiding in her and her family more. 2011, I was given the boot by my dad, and moved to PA, in with my mom. J was excited because I was about 30 minutes closer to her than I was in NJ. I had more sleepovers at her place. I invited her to stay with me, but every time she would come, she would have a panic attack after we ate somewhere and would either leave to go back home, or ask me to bring her home if I drove.

I never questioned her anytime she had to leave. It inconvenienced me, but I didn’t know what it was like to live inside her head, so I didn’t judge. At the end of 2011, I noticed J had gotten really, really skinny. She was always thin, (it was just her build) but she looked sick. She always had a lot of food allergies, but this was even worse. She confided that a lot of her current anxieties stemmed from food, because she struggled with really bad digestive issues, and anytime she would have a bad episode, it would give her panic attacks. She didn’t know what was next that she couldn’t digest. I told her I was concerned about her weight. She told me she was seeing a therapist, that it was fine. But, she kept coming to me with more and more issues that I felt she should see a therapist for. I somehow knew her inner workings really, really well, (I’m an empath and have always had a knack for this) and could pinpoint her emotions even if I didn’t have the same struggles. It came to a point where I felt she was relying on me for professional help I thought she should get. She told me she’d seen her doctor, who diagnosed her as anorexic, and she couldn’t believe it. She said there was no way she was anorexic, because she wasn’t trying to lose weight. Yet, she wasn’t eating. She barely ate because of the anxiety of what would set her body off. She sometimes went days without eating. Despite the reasons being different, it’s still anorexia. I told her this, and she wasn’t happy with that, she thought I was ganging up on her.

I tried explaining, (delicately, based on her condition) that there’s a chance that because she barely ate, that by the time she ate again, she was possibly eating too much in one meal, and that the body is going to go through hurdles when it gets used to food again. She just had to make it through the hump of her body getting used to eating again, and then the issues would probably get better, at the very least. But she couldn’t see past that and kept going. In 2012, this was still a constant issue, and it was affecting her mental health even worse. Her panic meds weren’t working as effectively, and neither were her depression meds. Anytime I tried suggesting bringing it up with her doctor and having them reevaluate her, she said she would but never did. I suspect there’s some closet OCD or OCPD that led to panic at the thought of anything disrupting the routine she’d come to know, even if she derailed from that routine due to the mental illness.

One day, we were talking, and I mentioned something about how I wished her parents liked me, because I was such a different person. She said they did, and that they really appreciated how good a friend I was to J, and how responsible I was. I said that was a total 180 from just a couple years ago, and J said she finally came clean to them about her party from all those years ago, in 2004. She finally admitted to them I didn’t do anything, that she did it all and that it was her idea. Her parents were pretty angry that J let them have a skewed opinion of me for so many years. (though really, over water balloons? That’s the hill you were gonna die on? Seriously?) I was pleasantly surprised, because FINALLY I was vindicated!

J’s mom’s health was rapidly declining. She had COPD from years of smoking 3 packs a day, even though she’d quit several years before all the issues hit. She was using her rescue inhaler multiple times a day, using a daily breathing medication, giving herself 4-5 breathing treatments with her nebulizer a day, AND was on oxygen. She could walk but wasn’t terribly mobile out of the house, because she’d immediately become winded. J’s weight was still an uncontrolled issue. She would get a new PCP, go to an appointment, didn’t like when they wanted to reevaluate her to see if she needed new medication, didn’t like when they mentioned her anorexia and suggested treatment options, would fire them, and get a new one. I was still her therapist, though it weighed heavily on me because I was not a professional, (though I wanted to be one, still do) and didn’t want to steer her wrong. I made suggestions that I knew would cause no harm if they didn’t work for her. But then she’d blame me when they didn’t work. In fact, anytime she was in a foul mood, she would fly off the handle on me. I was her punching bag. I mean it when I say there would be no reason. She’d ask me for help cheering her up, or help bringing her out of a panic attack, and I tried my best. If I didn’t help, she’d get really, really mad at me. I excused it for years, saying she had mental illness issues, and I shouldn’t judge.

We watched a lot of YouTube, and mutually watched a particular vlog and LP channel. We saw that they went to PAX East and what was then PAX Prime, (Now called PAX West) via the vlogs, and wanted to go ourselves. J snagged us badges for 2013. I drove us to Boston, and we had a great time for a weekend. J had gotten herself on a pretty healthy routine before we traveled, and didn’t have an issue with anywhere we ate. It was a ton of fun. Later in the year, her uncle decided he was moving back into the house they were renting from him, and they had to move. They moved to PA, about 30 minutes closer to me. I helped them clean up their house, (Which they hadn’t cleaned in at LEAST 5 years by that point. It smelled awful, had inches thick layers of dust on their carpeting, and had animal excrement in areas. Bathrooms weren’t cleaned, stuff was packed with animal hair and dirt caked on them, but they somehow didn’t notice) and helped move into their new one.

2014 came, and my best friend passed away. J knew her, and felt awful. I tried helping J through her continuing deteriorating mental health, while going through the worst grief of my entire life. I didn’t visit J as much because I didn’t have money, and had no motivation to go anywhere. I was descending further into my own issues with mental illness, and had no motivation to help myself. J kept telling me to snap out of it, that she wasn’t coming back and I needed to move on. It was hurtful. She was my best friend. You don’t just get over that.

2015 came, and we went back to PAX. But things were different. J barely ate again. In fact, she barely let ME stop to get food, and I am a reactive hypoglycemic, which she knew. I was prone to passing out, and needed to stay fueled. I only needed 3 meals, and a couple snacks on me, but she only let me eat once, after taking public transpo to the convention center, and walking all around the convention center. She had me pay for BOTH of our badges for the whole weekend, and gas to drive from PA to Boston. She didn’t have the money but still wanted to go. I’d had a boyfriend for a little over a year at this point. After one day in Boston, she woke me up early the next morning and said she was having a panic attack and that I had to take her home. She’d done this often when we hung out, if we went to a restaurant that was new to her, or somewhere she thought she couldn’t vet the food. She would need me to bring her home, because I was the frequent driver. But, Boston was a 5 hour drive from where she lived. I still had plans for the weekend. I didn’t want to leave, especially when I’d shelled out all the money for us to go! 

Not even an hour after she sprung that on me, my boyfriend called me, surprising me and telling me he was also at PAX. This was a big deal, because he was away at culinary school and we were in a long-distance relationship. I hadn’t seen him in a month. J was livid. She screamed at my boyfriend, we’ll call him M2. She said that if she knew he was going, she would have never gone in the first place. All this AFTER she demanded I pay for everything, and STILL demanded we leave. She agreed to let us go to the panel we wanted to attend, and then we left. She didn’t understand why I was upset. She said that I was being an asshole because I just “didn’t get her anxiety” and wasn’t being considerate of her. I felt I’d been considerate of her illness for YEARS, walking on eggshells even, bending over backwards to help her out when I could, but thought I was rightfully upset. I wasn’t upset that her illness got in the way. I was upset by how it was handled. She was unwilling to have an emergency call with her therapist, she was unwilling to call her mom for creature comforts, or to try ANY of the coping mechanisms (that worked) that she learned in therapy. She said she thought she was going to have bathroom issues and that she needed to be home for it. (Even though we were staying at her aunt’s house.) I understand the creature comforts of home, but she was demanding I drive several states, at no notice, to take her home, and just be okay with it. I didn’t think that was fair.

We didn’t talk for a couple months after that. We needed to cool off. I visited her occasionally, but not much. I couldn’t bring myself to spend the night anytime I’d visit, because I didn’t want to be stuck, and her place was honestly too dirty for my health at that time. Through the rest of 2015, and leading into 2016, she really only talked to me if she needed something. No questions of how I was, didn’t really care what was going on at my end. She would need me to talk her down from something, help her resolve her anger, help her with her eating disorder, her panic attacks, her bathroom habits. Stuff her mom was doing.

Then, in the beginning of 2016, in the span of a month, I was in a terrible car accident, and then her mom died. I’d debated cutting her off before this, because of how one-sided I thought the friendship felt. I’d occasionally try to broach the subject, but she would always accuse me of not being sensitive to her needs, and just being selfish. So I’d drop it. After her mom died, things changed even worse for J. I felt awful for her and her family, and was there for them as much as I could be. I had months-long recovery from my accident, so there wasn’t a ton I could do for awhile. We would talk online, and it was all the same, except now I was being asked to resolve her grief for her too. On top of it, she started treating me like her mother. She started asking me questions if she suspected something off about her health, that she really should’ve asked a doctor. So not only was I expected to keep her a functioning person, she also treated me like her mother, and our friendship became even more unhealthy. I found reasons not to talk to her, because I just couldn’t handle the responsibilities she saddled me with. Anytime I mentioned it again, she would say the same things. She would talk about how depressed she was, that she had no other friends, and I felt sorry for her, so I would continue to talk to her. But I didn’t like her anymore. She treated me and everyone else in her life like shit. I couldn’t take it. 

In 2017, I found out I was pregnant. After that, things took a turn. I couldn’t really pinpoint what exactly was weirding me out about her actions, until my boyfriend and best friend said that they felt J was trying to live vicariously through me. I was hitting milestones in my life that she wanted to hit. She was crossing lines while I was pregnant, that made me really uncomfortable. She would ask me multiple times a day about the pregnancy, which would be fine but it felt like she was up my uterus with the intimate questions she was asking. And she kept referring to my pregnancy as “our” pregnancy. I turned into “we”. 

On top of being up my uterus, J was still expecting me to act like her mom. I still was asked to coach her through being in the bathroom, that she would normally have her mom come in the bathroom with her to help her with. On top of having a very complicated pregnancy already, (I was high risk) having these responsibilities that I didn’t ask for was just getting to be really stressful. After I delivered in June 2018, she wanted to come visit right away and babysit, which was nice, but I tried explaining I needed to bond with the baby and recover from childbirth, and she was really butthurt.

Mind you, she knew nothing about babies. I would’ve had to teach her everything, while I’m trying to learn how to be a parent too. I don’t mind showing her the ropes, but I’m not going to leave her alone with my baby when she hasn’t even learned how to hold one yet, is my point. She and her dad came to visit me when my son was a few weeks old. J appointed her dad “grandpa” without even talking to me about it first. Mind you, my dad and I had patched up a bunch of our issues by this point, and he was involved, as well as my boyfriend’s father. My son already had his two biological grandfathers heavily involved. I had a good rapport with J’s family by this point, but I by no means considered her father like my own. I never really got over the decade of harsh judgments he made against me without really knowing me. This made things incredibly awkward for me, because then she grew to expect me to schlep my son to her place, (which wasn’t clean, and I don’t mean messy, but legit dirty) to see “his grandpa”, while he was a newborn.

I tried talking to her less and less. I had finally reached my breaking point. I’d tried multiple times to talk to her over the years about the way she treated me, but it seemed to fall on deaf ears. All she would ever say was that I didn’t understand mental illness, and was being unfair, and too judgmental. Imo, I think I took a lot from her over the years. Now that I had a child, I didn’t want him to think these behaviors were okay. I tried talking to her about it again. Nothing further got through to her. So, after talking to my mom, my two stepmothers, my boyfriend, and best friend about the guilt I felt from wanting to cut her off, I finally did. I explained that I couldn’t handle being her mother anymore. I couldn’t handle being her therapist. I didn’t like the person she became. I told her I tried for years to wait out changes that never came. I told her I harbored no ill will, but I just couldn’t be friends with her anymore. It’s unfair to someone to remain friends with them because you know they don’t really have many other friends IRL. I was no longer comfortable associating with her. She insisted we could work on it, but I told her I tried for years and I was out of straws. All she saw was that I was throwing away 18 years. She blocked me on all social media after she got confirmation that I didn’t want to be her friend at all anymore. This was November 2018.

For about a month, I cried all the time, because I felt so guilty. I didn’t want her to do anything rash. I was afraid for her, I felt guilty that I let go of 18 years. But, in the end, there wasn’t much left for me to hold onto. I’ve told very few people about this situation. Half thought I should’ve given another chance, and half thought I did the right thing. It gets dicey when mental illness is involved. But, more than a year later, I don’t regret it. My own mental health, while still on shaky ground, is immensely improved since making that decision. I struggle with co-dependent tendencies that I’m working on, and her friendship only perpetuated it. I was a pushover and allowed behaviors that I would normally never tolerate. I want to be a better example for my son, who’s now almost 18 months old.

To clarify: I’m not saying I’m perfect here. I had my own mental illness. I’m sure there were times I fell short as a friend. Maybe I was unfairly upset about the PAX issue, who knows. I’m not going to put myself up on a pedestal. All I know is, I couldn’t work to better myself with her still in my life. It wasn’t working. I was spiraling farther and farther down. She was bringing me down with her, and I couldn’t continue to do it. 

[formerlygay-blog]

Bio: Part 4

Bio: Part 4 Final Chapter

I returned from Florida in June of 1986. In September I moved to Custer, where I got a job as a tire repairman. In May of 1987, my divorce was final and I decided to go to the bar to celebrate. I met my current wife and moved in with her. I knew it was sin, but I reasoned that it wasn’t as bad as what I had been doing. Besides, she was a real cougar.

On May 7, 1988, we were married - - one year to the day we met. Shortly after that I went to a Spirit filled church there in Custer and officially recommitted my life to Christ. Sally joined me shortly after. We both grew and thrived in that little church. We became Sunday school teachers and had a blast.

We were there maybe 6 years when I was asked to share my testimony. It caused division in the church - - right down the middle. Some seemed to be of the opinion that God could not change homosexuals. It is unfortunate that some put limits on what God can do. Everyone pulled their kids out of Sunday school, except the pastor. He and his wife stood behind me when nobody else would.

Eventually, I became bitter and we ended up leaving that church, and moved to my home to of Edgemont, where we both worked as CNAs. We got involved in the church there and were asked to teach Sunday school there. Reluctantly we agreed. We were careful not to mention my past.

In 1997, I got into some trouble at work and lost my job. I got into trucking. I drove over the road for three months. But I quit doing that because I was always on the road and didn’t have time for church, my marriage, or God.

I went up to North Dakota and worked initially in the oil fields. Sally got us an apartment in Bowman, about 20 miles from where I worked. Working in the oil field was worse than trucking, so I got a job in Bowman in the same nursing home where Sally worked. We went to a local church for a while, but felt like outsiders. So we stopped going.

In June of 1999, a patient sucker punched me and I hit him back. I lost yet another job and felt like a total failure. I went down to Rapid City alone and looked for work. I got a couple of temporary jobs, before landing a permanent job. When I did get a permanent job, we made plans for me to move out of the halfway house where I was living and for Sally to join me. Before that happened. I got drunk and had a 1 night stand with one of the guys in the halfway house.

I was filled with guilt, shame and self-hatred. I took a bottle of Trazadone the next day, in an attempt to kill myself. I ended up having my stomach pumped and was placed in a psyche ward. I felt absolutely dead inside. I reasoned that it was the alcohol that was to blame, so I joined AA. Sally forgave me and supported me as I worked the program. I started to thrive again.

We tried a couple of churches, but did not find one that we were comfortable with. AA became my spiritual program. I experimented with mixing Catholism and Buddhism. It turned out to be a bad combination. You know, in AA you can pick your higher power and make it whatever you want it to be. Not exactly sound doctrine.

In 2012, I had 13 years of sobriety, but I was addicted to internet porn, cybersex and one night stands. This was all done in secret because I didn’t want to hurt Sally. In 2012, I came clean and went to Sex Addicts Anonymous. I refrained from the worst of my behaviors, but not all. I stopped going in 2016.

Shortly after that, I was right back to my old behaviors again. I tried to do the honorable thing and left Sally. I felt that I had caused her enough pain. So I took off and headed to San Francisco. I figured that I was hopeless, that I would never be able to change.,so I might as well give free reign to my addiction.

I made the mistake of taking my cell phone with me. She had me talked into coming home the next day. Reluctantly I returned. But I continued to see men (although openly this time). Sally became a wet blanket following me to the Gay club and to the Gay dance. She prayed relentlessly. But the hardest part to endure was that she would cry herself to sleep every night. She refused to give up on me. That is when I began to understand God’s love for me. And it humbled me and broke my heart. I renounced the gay lifestyle.

In 2015, we started going to church again. It is a great church. A loving church. A church where the Bible is read and expounded on verse by verse. But I was back into the porn and cybersex again and knew it was only a matter of time before the anonymous sex with strange men would start again. I was also having problems with anger and rage, stemming mainly from my childhood and early adolescence.

On the night of January 10, 2016: angry, depressed, lonely and feeling hopeless, I left the house intending to get drunk and drive my car into the lobby of the hospital where I worked. I wanted to make a statement to the higher ups about what I thought about some of their policies while killing myself. Fortunately, I accidentally locked my keys in the house and couldn’t go anywhere. I had to wake Sally up at 3 in the morning then sheepishly explain what I was doing outside at that hour of the morning. Back to the psyche ward for another month, followed with 2 months of treatment for alcoholism. Our pastor suggested that I had not completely given my life to the Lord. I was offended and we stopped going to that church. He was right, but I didn’t want to hear it at the time.

This is where my life began to turn around. We started going to church again, and became involved. I still struggled with porn and cybersex, but was open about it and sought counseling. Our pastor recommended Celebrate Recovery and I started going in October of 2016. I shared in small group and got a couple of accountability partners. I eventually got a sponsor and together we are going through the steps. The thing that I like about Celebrate Recovery is that it is a Christ based program. More than that, they stress a personal relationship with Jesus Christ - - something that I really didn’t have before. What I had before was a religion. On March 16, 2017, I gave my heart fully to the Lord and completely surrendered to him. I am falling in love with Jesus and he is filling the gaping hole in my soul.

I have true friends now, who believe in the same Jesus and his ability and willingness to help us overcome our hurts, hang ups, and habits. Recovery is possible. It can be permanent, unlike in the other programs. And I am learning how to relate to other men and have healthy normal relationships with them.

I now have 1 and a half years of sobriety from alcohol. I have no desire to drink. It has been removed. I have 6 months of freedom from porn and cybersex, and and don’t want them. I am getting progressive victory over lust and masterbation. And I am having loads of fun in recovery. Life is finally good and worth living.

[forceyourway]

Tree of Life Shadow Work Challenge

Day Two: “What facet of my childhood have I overlooked or otherwise need to evaluate?”

(Using Loki’s tarot deck, “The Raven’s Prophecy Tarot”)

The Magician - A master of all they undertake, The Magician has extraordinary influence on the world. They’re versatile; they can shape things and bring them into being, alter them, and destroy them. As such, they are in a sense indomitable; they can take whatever the world throws at them and make it their own. I thought this would be Loki’s signifier, as I experience him very much in this way, but he ended up going for the Nine of Wands. I do maintain that he fits the description, and though it may not be is calling card, he is The Magician all the same. This may be about recognizing how he fits into my life, and/or about recognizing my own power and ability to control my destiny. Both, probably. Both is good.

My Childhood

Trace back your memories as far as you can. Try to overview your early life in as much detail as possible. Articulate or otherwise express how you experienced childhood as a whole. Heed to any areas of resistance you encounter. Note pivotal turning points or memories that stand out. Attempt to recall the first time you experienced emotions like sadness, anger, jealousy, anxiety, remorse, and contempt.

TW: abuse, child abuse, physical abuse, emotional abuse, psychological abuse, mental abuse, spiritual abuse, bullying, Christianity

It sucked, basically. My mom’s abusive, my dad’s abusive, my sister’s abusive, everyone’s abusive.

When I was young, I’m not sure how young, but before 3rd grade, my dad was setting off fireworks in the backyard. He’s still really into that. They’re illegal in my state, so a police car came by, and I think they were asking my dad questions. My babysitter took me and my sister and ran upstairs to hide. Maybe in a closet. I didn’t know what was going to happen and I was scared. That’s probably my first “fear” moment. That or walking in on my mom watching poltergeist, holy shit that was terrifying. I still can’t do scary movies, especially not supernatural ones. I had a crush on the boy who lived a few houses down. He was a few years older than me, and his sister was the babysitter mentioned above. Sometimes I hung out over at their house, playing Sonic and stuff. One day, he and his older brother staged some kind of ridiculous murder scene downstairs. They kept trying to get me down by bribing me with lollipops, but I kept refusing. I knew they were up to something. I don’t remember how I ended up going down - maybe just to get them to stop bugging me - but they played out this whole thing where there was a murderer in the house and he was slowly killing everyone. Ketchup and lemonade (to make their voice hoarse, as if they were choked) were involved. I knew the “blood” was ketchup and that everything was fake, but ended up getting really upset by the thought of my crush being murdered. That’s probably my first “anxiety/despair” moment.

We moved the summer before I started 3rd grade, I think, and stayed there for the entirety of my childhood.  I’m not sure when my parents started going at each other. I remember we went to Disney World, maybe when I was in 5th grade? and there was a good bit of screaming at each other then. I don’t remember it before; maybe I was too young to know. Regardless, Disney World is probably my happiest (childhood) memory.

In 5th grade, we went to a Catholic school. I was bullied by pretty much everyone, even my “best friend,” who ended up being a sort of nightmare. But otherwise, nothing too crazy.

When I was in 6th grade, my mom took me and my sister and ran off to another state (where our extended family is). No warning. One day we were just gone. I don’t remember how she explained that to us. We went to a Catholic school that had a serious Hive Mentality thing going on. They didn’t want me and my sister. Our teachers were horrible to us, and I kept ending up in situations where I looked very guilty but was in fact innocent and totally oblivious to what was going on. This is probably the start of “anger.” They wanted to expel me, but couldn’t come up with a reason why. My mom immediately started seeing other people, and my dad was furious. He’s of a very traditional mindset, marriage is forever, your duty is to your family, blah blah. So he did some e-mail hacking and ended up posing as an online therapist, who encouraged my mom to go back to him. She still doesn’t know.

That’s about when shit started getting really bad. He would scream til he was purple about how awful she was, pretty much all hours, pretty much every day, I think. Anti-women slurs everywhere. When me or my sister displeased him, he’d turn it on us. Even casual conversation with him was somehow linked back to our mother “ruining our lives.” At some point there was family therapy, which was an absolute disaster. They said I was “Obsessive Defiant.” I guess “abused” was never even a consideration. He’d start screaming “Defiance!” at me if I didn’t do a thing fast enough, like, “Pass the butter. Defiance!!!” like shit give me a second. My mom I guess blamed us for our dad’s BS and was always on about how we’re ruining her life and how I’m some kind of evil devil child and I’d have nightmares all the time about burning in hell.

The second half of 6th grade I went back into public school, and basically went right to my closest friends from public-elementary-school, who were The Losers. No one else remembered me, so going straight for The Losers pretty much instantly made me one of them. Probably the most, like, “establishing character moment” in my life, and the first "fuck you” at the world moment. Like I was starting to realize what behaviour was not acceptable among people (after fucking up a whole lot first, courtesy of my parents), and pretty much took a hard stand against bullshit, and recognizing my friends being The Losers was messed up. I got bullied. One girl beat the shit out of me once. My dad picked me up from a sleepover at her house, and blamed me for it. Obviously I must have deserved it, or something.

My sister was a weird aggressive child who physically grew up too fast, if you get me. She was always jealous that I got along so well with our cousin (she was like in-between us, age-wise), and her favorite game was Beat Up. It’s exactly what it sounds like, with me as the target. People don’t take notice because she’s younger than me - a good bit younger - but damn if she wasn’t bigger/stronger than me, like. There’s more, but I won’t type that on here. I don’t talk about that.

High school there was more persistent bullying, but never physical. Only the one time ever was. In 9th grade it got to the point where I just stopped talking. I’d talk to like 1 person, and at home because god, can you imagine what would have happened if I went silent at home. “Defiance!!11!1″ I think in 10th it got better. I kind of acquired friends because my (new) best friend was friends with a bunch of people, and I was always hanging out with her. We’re all still friends now. I guess.

No one knew about my family’s issues. Not my friends, anyway. One of my sister’s friends found out once after kind of witnessing my dad beat the shit out of me because I refused to go swimming at the river (I was on my period, dude). He was screaming about how I was destroying the family or something??? I provoked him into hitting me, so he smacked the shit out of me. The poor girl was apparently smacked around herself, because she didn’t take seeing this well at all. I remember my dad was going to drive me to school for my senior picture, and I was tying my shoelaces and clearing my throat. You know how your voice kind of catches in your throat? For some reason he assumed this was me throwing a fit about him not “getting ready fast enough”??? and he started with the usual screaming. I said fine, I’ll walk, not wanting to really ride with that anyway. I get about halfway there, and he’s in the car hanging out the window, purple-red, screaming about how if I don’t get in the car he’ll drag me in, and my mother, my mother, it’s all her fault, I’m just like her. I tried sitting in the back. Wrong choice. He screamed in my face the whole way there. I was crying hysterically at school, but trying to hide it. People who hated me were asking me what was wrong. None of my friends were there. I was trying not to burst into tears literally as they were taking my picture.

It was bad. My childhood was bad. Bad all over. Not sure what you’re looking for here, really.

[cleosdimention-blog]

Queen of the South

I can’t vividly remember some of my memories when I last visited my province, the place where I spent half of my childhood years—Cebu. I’ve been wondering how Cebu was, how was our family, what has changed from the last time I visited. I miss visiting my province so when me, my mother, two of my siblings, my cousins and my aunt decided to book a flight (thankfully, the fare was not that pricy) to Cebu, to say that I was ecstatic is an understatement. Finally, after how many years, I will be able to see the Queen City of the South who has 44 towns, including Talamban where our house is located, and seven cities, urban centers and countryside, islands and mountain ranges, age-old crafts, and new technology. As we got near our destination, seeing the sea and lands of the place,and as the pilot informed us how close we are from landing, I was so ready to face my hometown and meet my relatives once again. When the plane finally landed, after a long walk from the inside to the place where we will get our luggage, we went outside to wait for my Tita and my cousin’s husband who’s driving the jeepney. As I let my eyes wander to the place, I then realize that this trip will be like walking down my memory lane of when I was younger.

Swimming was our first activity for that day. The place was located in Amara, Liloan inside a peaceful and quiet subdivision (I swear, it’s like a ghost town minus the foggy and scary atmosphere). It was daylight that day so we got to appreciate the place. Two-story houses are being surrounded with field of grass and trees. The resort was so clean, quiet, peaceful and alluring. What adds up to the list of why I like the place is the veranda, facing the beach. It was indeed a good place to reminisce or write. This place is a great family outing or friends get away after a stressful week. Our next stop is at Papa Kit’s Marina and Fishing Lagoon which is also located in Liloan. There are a lot of activities that can be done in this place like Zipline, hourseback ridding, Jungle Obstacle, wall climbing, hanging bridge, wakeboarding, aqua sports and fishing. The only activities we did was zipline, jungle obstacle, hanging bridge and fishing. I did not joined them in enjoying the zipline because I was too scared! It was so high and I feel like anytime soon, the rope will give up and drop me on the sea. After then, I regret not overcoming the fear and bad thoughts I’m picturing in my mind. Call me kill joy all you want but I did not, again, tried fishing with them. I was just looking at them while they kept on shouting and fooling each other that they got a fish on the hook. Why, you ask? Well, I really don’t know. One thing I remember is that I don’t think the fishes like me and that I might drop the rod. While I was typing this, I realize how foolish I was. Anyway, the night caught up our fun time in Papa Kit’s. They bought the fishes they got so that we can cook it for dinner and finally continue our journey towards Talamban.

My cousins and my Tita didn’t come with us in our house in Bario Binaliw, instead they stayed for the night in one of our Tita’s house somewhere in Liloan. As we bid our good night’s and see you tomorrow’s, the jeepney hit the road towards Binaliw. As we went close to the place, the surroundings became familiar to me and I can almost remember the day when I was still young. I also saw this narrow road where I remember was the way towards my nursery school. We passed through the tall and rocky mountains, houses that my mother knew the resident of it, and the villages (some of it was new to my eyes). We finally reached this road that in my opinion is dangerous. The road wasn’t that narrow but if the driver overestimated his turn, the jeep will fall into a deep ravine so when we made a turn, I inhaled deeply and held my breath until the jeep was driving straight again. The anxious feeling was worth it when we reached the place. The jeepney will take this short and rocky passage between two houses, serving as the right of way passage towards my grandfather’s land. When we finally came to a stop, my cousin and my Titas welcomed us with a warm smile and hug, same goes with our Lolo. They first talked to us in Cebuano but only I can’t understand them very well so all I did was replied a smile. “Di ka na kahibalo mosulti ug binisaya?” they would always ask me and my reply was always a nod. I’m envy of my brothers though, they still know how to speak in Cebuano but I can only understand some of it (just talk to me slowly so I can follow). As my mom and her sister talk, I wander around the place. Too bad it was night time so I can’t see much of it but I remembered some detail and I was happy nothing much has changed in the place. I saw the stairs up towards my grandparent’s little house where I first lost two of my tooth. I got a lot of tease after that and got to have this childish nickname that I don’t want to include here. I saw the place where I used to play with my cousin. The night was full of reminiscing about the past hilarious events and was full of “do you remember”.

On the following day, we went to Cebu’s BBQ Heaven: Larsian, located at Fuente Osmeña. It consists of several stalls and I’m telling you, the people here are so friendly and welcoming. They are so good with persuading you to eat to their stall. This place was frequently visited by locals and tourists and is usually crowded at night. They have grill area in the middle of the place where all the barbeque, no matter what stalls they belong to, are being cooked. My cousin and her partner own one of the stalls in Larsian so when she learned that we were having a vacation in Cebu, she immediately told us to visit their stall in Larsian and to spend our dinner there. Spoon and fork isn’t much used in this place. Instead, they will only give you a disposable plastic glove which is part of the barbeque experience. The place was a bit untidy but the atmosphere the store owners and workers give us, customer, made the stay worthwhile, plus of course the delicious meal they served. I recommend you this place, you will not regret coming here. We also went to a restaurant in Ayala Center, Idea Italia where we celebrated Lola Garden’s birthday. We call her Lola Garden because she usually send us request from Garden’s of Time which is an application in Facebook (and that’s the history of it). Going back, we had fun celebrating her birthday and enjoyed the food served. We also strolled along Ayala. We got to enjoy walking under the moon, laughing through our jokes and teasing each other. It was one of the nights I won’t ever forget.

The most unforgettable place we went to is Simala Shrine in Sibonga Cebu. It was one of the most beautiful Shrines I ever saw. The structure was a castle-like type and attached on the right side facing the church was two stairs wherein the stairs on the right is the way up the church while the left side of the stairs was the exit pathway. The place was enchanting especially the inner part of the church. On the outer part, on the right side of the church, there you could offer prayers and light colored candles which each have corresponding prayers. The atmosphere of the mass area was so holy and peaceful that you won’t find it hard to talk to God and pray inside. The statues found inside are also attractive same goes with the paintings in the ceiling! I am telling you, when you will be having a vacation at Cebu, do not forget to go to Simala Shrine! It is just one of the religious places where most Catholics go to with multiple reasons. We also visited Santo Niño de Cebu where we attended the Sunday mass. Since the church was damaged by the earthquake, the mass was held in front of the church. It amazed me with this attitude of the Cebuano Catholics. The earthquake did not stop them. Instead, they found a way, though inconvenient for some because of the severe heat from the sun, to still celebrate Sunday mass. I noticed that some people lacked discipline and consideration because as we walk through the crowded entrance of the Church; some are pushing one another and some aren’t concerned enough with the foot they were stepping into. Also, the outside of the church wasn’t that pleasant and tidy. The last place we went, and probably my “most awaited place” that I really want to show my cousin, is the Golden Haven Memorial Park located at Binaliw. I’ve never went to all the Memorial Parks in the Philippines but so far, the Golden Haven in Cebu is one of places I love. The place just represents the people who are buried in there; peaceful. I appreciate the aesthetic of the place and how relaxing it is. There is a short but complicated and dangerous path near our house and that’s where we took. We also had the time to visit our relatives in my mother’s side and also in my father’s side. It’s funny because it seems like every house that we see, they were our relatives or close family friend. Our journey ended there and I can say that with just a short period of time, we got to enjoy every hour, minute and second together. I did not only have the chance to bond with my relatives but I also got to appreciate the beauty of Cebu. It just held so many memories which is a part of me and I won’t ever forget this place that is dear to my heart. Now, 3 years had passed, I can’t wait to visit the Queen of the South again. 

[grumkin]

Early, Brooklyn, Present Day

I decide to ride my bike to the cemetery. The breeze will cool me down. Last night I dreamt of Grandma Klara and it seems like a good time to pay a visit.

I’m not a goth, but there is something I love about cemeteries. The inscriptions, the mausoleums, the crazy angels and plinths. All those bones beneath the grass, the years they’ve lasted. There are lots of trees in the cemetery, too. It’s kind of like hanging out in a sad, quiet park.

I lock my bike to the fence and wander down a side path. Some of these graves are from the 1800’s. Why do people bury their dead? This place is like an underground neighborhood, coffins stacked on coffins, bones taking up space. My mother’s mother, Grandma Klara, is buried here. She died two years ago. I loved her. I miss her. Before she died she was obsessed with her funeral, with who would be there, what Scripture she wanted to have read, what her headstone would say. She got it just how she wanted it, a Catholic ceremony, the tolling church bells. The only thing she wanted that she could have was to be buried in the cemetery in Gdansk, right next to Grandpa Peter.  The first reason she couldn’t have this was that Grandpa Peter wasn’t buried in Gdansk. He wasn’t buried anywhere we knew of. Klara believed they would be together in heaven, though. She was the one who made sure I was baptized, that I had my first communion. She made me go through confirmation too, which I did only because I loved her so much, biting the insides of my cheeks the whole time.

My mother Agatha grew up Catholic, but now she’s new-agey; she insists we Gorski women have witch blood. She gets all worked up about the patriarchy of the Church, things like that. She majored in Women’s Studies, was working on her dissertation on Women’s Religions. Then she had me, an accidental detour from a life of academia that never quite got back on track. Grandma Klara wanted her to be an English major, so proud of her ambitious American daughter. But Mom has never been known for doing what other people want her to do.

Grandma Klara once told me privately that my mother entered college as a literature major, but was seduced by the chair of the literature department. “Then,” Klara said, taking a deep breath, “Agatha, she got pregnant, by Chair of Literature. And then, Early, your mother did very sad thing.” Klara pressed her lips together. Tears stood in her eyes. “Very, very sad thing.” She sighed, sniffed, flicked her hand. “And then, Vomen’s Studies.” Klara thought I was a miraculous child, sent by all-forgiving Jesus as a healing gift to a woman who committed a grave sin. “Your mother so lucky to have you,” she told me all the time.

My grandmother’s headstone is the kind that lies flat on the ground, and I like to stretch out on it, especially in the summer, when it holds on to the coolness of the shade of the small pine trees that stand overhead. I don’t think it’s disrespectful. I see it as a sort of an afterlife cuddle.

Light comes through the pine needles above, flaring as the tree limbs rustle in the breeze.

Grandpa Peter died before I was born. I only knew him from the pictures, him with Lech Walesa, under the banner of Solidarnosc. Once, when I was nine or ten, Grandma Klara told me he was murdered by Communists, but I didn’t know what that meant. She was always promising to take me to Poland with her to see the old town of Gdansk, the Golden Gate that her father helped rebuild, piece by piece, after it was destroyed by the Nazis.

We never made it to Gdansk, I think, staring at her grave, and now I’m going to die never having seen it, not knowing my roots on either side, all that history that made my ancestors who they were and that makes me who I am.

I lie on her headstone, staring up at the sky, and calculate how much it would cost to get to Poland within the next forty days. A thousand dollars for a week there? Where can I get a thousand dollars? I picture going to Grandma Klara and saying, Grandma Klara, I’m going to die. How can I get a thousand bucks, quickly? She would laugh and elbow me and suggest I get a job. You gonna die, you better get job so you can afford funeral.

So. I won’t be going to Gdansk.  Where else will I never go?  If I die on my birthday, that is. The Dominican Republic, where who knows, I might have a whole half-family waiting for me. Budapest, where my great Aunt Julianna, Klara’s sister, moved after their mother died. Among many, many other exotic places that I can’t think of right now, not to mention the other 49 American states. Things I’d like to see but will never see, if I die on my birthday: the Nile, the Amazon, the Eiffel Tower. Among countless other things. I’m going to have to start another list, an “If I Live” list.

Feeling restless, I stand, say, “Bye, Grandma,” and keep walking, heading towards the center of the cemetery.

I scout the graves of children. It’s gloomy business. Some of them just say ‘Baby’ and the dates. One tomb has two sons lying next to each other, born ten years apart, each dead within in their first year. What are the chances? The epitaphs are all tearjerkers: So small, so sweet, so soon. And, Sleep, my little one, sleep. One tomb features a sculpture of a little girl sleeping, her golden retriever puppy asleep in her arms. Louisa and Puppy.  I have to wonder, is the dog in there with her?

What will my grave say? I assume they’ll bury me. I guess I could request to be cremated. Mom will never go for it, though. We bury our dead, she’ll say. Absolutely no cremation for you, young lady. The body is the temple of the Holy Ghost, according to Grandma Klara. That’s why you bury it in the dirt instead of burning it. That’s why Grandma Klara hated it that Mom smokes; it desecrates the temple. I personally have never felt a whole lot of Holy Ghost up in my own body, but I’m assuming that will change when I start having sex. I mean, with other people.

One grave, with a brass marker, just reads: VIRGIN. 1911-1923.

By the time I unlock my bike from the fence and leave the cemetery, the sky is reddening and I am thoroughly depressed. I miss my Grandma. And I’m suddenly very worried about the status of my virginity.

 My mother calls herself a Catholic feminist. She works at the community college and holds women’s groups at our apartment. Some of the ladies come from the neighborhood and some from the university. A few even from as far away as the Bronx. They are of all stripes, but they all love the Virgin Mary. And most of them have a pretty strong crush on Jesus, too. Mom definitely does. But they are also into Oshun and Santeria, and there’s a lot of chanting and incense burning. I make it a point to avoid these little gatherings. Drama.

Grandma Klara was very religious and superstitious, afraid of the evil eye and bad omens, which can be found constantly, anywhere. Passing someone on the stairs? Bad luck. Walking under a ladder? Puts one in league with the Devil, automatically. Put your shirt on inside out? Bad luck. Breaking a mirror, singing before breakfast, putting a hat on a bed, putting the button in the wrong buttonhole, an owl hooting three times, all these things are bad luck. Very bad. Conversely, sneezing three times on an empty stomach, putting your dress on inside out, getting your hair cut during a storm, an itch on the top of your head, all these are good luck. No wonder my mother is crazy, given her upbringing.

My own childhood was fraught with prayers to guard against the evil eye, Tibetan singing bowls, and creative visualization techniques. As a result, I can change stoplights from red to green by simply visualizing it, and I almost never go to church any more. I mostly keep the stoplight thing to myself—I’m not a freak, and I don’t want people thinking I am. I can do the same thing with trains, though, especially the j-m-z, which is my bitch. So people like hanging with me, ‘cause it’s convenient. I just have to make sure I don’t talk about it.

Lying in bed that night, I can’t sleep. The summer night wind blows my curtains gently up, and they float down again, making the slightest rasping noise across the carpet. The rasping has gotten louder and louder and it’s keeping me awake. Besides, there is something else bothering me. VIRGIN. She died without losing it. What is it they say about the Virgin Mary? She doesn’t die, she just goes to sleep. Like a Disney Princess.

So to some people, dying a virgin might seem like a holy thing to do. The purity of it. Unspoiled by human (male) hands. How did they know, though? How did those folks who put the VIRGIN grave marker over their dead daughter know for sure she was one? Did they have her hymen checked, post-mortem? Maybe she was one of those holier-than-thou Catholic school sluts who did it in every hole except that one. Or the kind of girl who had sleepovers with her girlfriends and they experimented in bed together, not that I would know anything about that. If you asked the dead girl what she wanted on her grave marker, VIRGIN might not be the first thing she would have picked. I myself have found the excuse of “I’m saving myself” fairly all-purpose when it comes to boys. But that was before the prophesy.

I do not intend to die a virgin.

Birthday List:

Good hair

Have sex

 I could have lost it before now, I guess. I know a lot of girls who have. Boys have wanted to do it with me before. My last boyfriend almost talked me into it, but I chickened out at the last minute because I was afraid his mom would come home and catch us. Irrational, since she was in PR and not due back for a few days yet, but I became obsessed with the idea that she might decide to come home early and surprise Justin, and catch us in the act. I hated the idea that Mrs. Torres could know something about me, anything at all. That if she saw me on the street, she might whisper to her friends, I caught that little puta in bed with my Justin.

Maybe I just wasn’t ready to do it. Justin was kind of a dipshit, when all’s said and done. He whined at me the rest of the night.

The curtains rasp across the rug, whispering virgin, virgin, over and over all night, and I toss and turn and wonder whether or not I can find someone worthy of deflowering me in the next 39 days.

[forceyourway]

Tree of Life Shadow Work Challenge

Day Eight: “What aspects of my upbringing might I benefit from taking into consideration?”

(Using Loki’s tarot deck, “The Raven’s Prophecy Tarot”)

Four of Cups - Another interesting card, considering, the Four of Cups is about focusing on yourself, and not recognizing what good you have in life. Being a Cups card, this can be about relationships. Since I’m abused, it makes sense that I would have a very self-focused childhood; it’s pretty much a survival mechanism. Now that I’m older, though, I’m more able to see all the elements of the puzzle; I can speculate on what my parents and sister may have been thinking, and why they did what they did. It’s admittedly a bit hard not to read this as “you were a selfish child and it’s all your fault,” but I don’t think this is what we’re getting at, here. I think that perspective leads to greater understanding of self...which is what this prompt is all about.

Upbringing - Values, Interests, Conduct

Consider how you were raised. How were you expected to behave? What was considered “normal” in your family unit? What sorts of ethics were instilled in you? Were you ever drawn to or fascinated by things that were not accepted in your family? Note any resistance you experienced to the way you were raised.

Now here’s a question I can get behind.

Much of this stuff has been touched on already in previous posts. For the sake of organization - because this is gonna be all over the place - I’m gonna bullet-point stuff, here.

Be What I Want/Expect You To Be - I think my mom had this vision of what her perfect child would be, and that vision is built heavily around dressing me up and having me be cute. If there is anything that requires any responsibility from her at all, she wants nothing to do with it. As mentioned, she would turn hostile to me when I refused to wear the clothes she got me (which were clothes she liked, not clothes I liked, and she knew that). I eventually started refusing to go shopping with her at all, because it always ended up looping back to this, even if it wasn’t on the schedule. My dad did force me to go to a tanning place when I was a young teen, because I was too pale for his taste, and my skin was not clear. Also mentioned, my dad made very frequent complaints that I was not doing all the terrible stuff he did as a kid (sneaking out, smoking, drinking, drugs, whatever), as if that meant I was not “normal.” I don’t even remotely feel bad about this. That’s his issue. Regardless, I did end up growing up feeling “weird,” and I’ll frequently apologize for “being weird” even now. My dad really emphasized the importance of spending time outdoors, and I appreciated that we would go out and try different things. But the outdoors are really not for me; I’m extremely allergic to pollen, and my skin is so pale that even a short amount of time in the sun makes me burn. I prefer time indoors, and I’m not big on people, so I like my alone time. That is and always was unacceptable in his eyes; he has serious, serious opposition to “nerds,” despite being one. He’s clocked hundreds of hours in FFX, so he’s no right to demand to know how long I’ve been playing. Until I found Final Fantasy X, he was refusing to buy any sort of game system (save our GameBoys, which apparently had a pass for not being Video Game Enough). Because he Perfected FFX, though, whenever I played a game he’s demand to know how much I accomplished re: sidequests, because no one could ever do better than him, I guess. So I felt this pressure to perfect everything, even though many times that pressure turns me off from gaming. I’ve only half-finished tons of games because of this. I’m slowly kicking this now, because I’ll play how I like, thank you. But society doesn’t help on this front, either. I also remember my dad making my sister and I weed the garden when we were in middle school, I think? and we were not allowed to stop until every single leaf and every single bit of green everywhere had been pulled. We were young and it was hot so this was miserable. I remember comparing myself to Cinderella at that point. This probably contributed to my perfectionism.

Christianity - As mentioned, I was raised Catholic, and despite being a generally terrible person, my mother was always pushing that I was gonna burn in hell. I had nightmares for a long time, even into adulthood. Catholic school made me deeply uncomfortable, and I always stood out among everyone else there, and not in a good way. And I’ve always been incredibly resistant to that whole “honor thy father and mother” thing. My parents are abusive, and it just seemed a very weird power move in general, to kind of force compliance upon kids like that. As such, I’m super opposed to pretty much any Christian anything, so I’ll never be one to work with Saints or angels or demons or what have you. This is to the point that even Christian symbolism, like shows or movies with a lot of Christian themes, will trigger an automatic “get it away from me” response. It’s been lessening some over time. My sister, with her ever-changing personality, got really into Mormonism after hanging out with a bunch of her Mormon friends, and that was deeply frowned upon by everyone in my family, even my extended family. Even though it was still Christianity, it wasn’t the right kind. My parents seem of the general belief that people who aren’t Christian are bad or evil, and that has always seemed wrong to me, both as someone very opposed to what beliefs were forced upon me, and as someone who knew non-Christians who are lovely people. And now we’ve come full circle with the Burn in Hell thing, with my mom and sister jumping into straight up Extremism. My mom threatened to have me exorcised (!) because idk she doesn’t like me?? or something I did??

Control through Fear - So there’s that whole “Defiance!!1!” thing. Questioning my father’s authority was pretty much an unforgiveable offense, and a personal insult to him. Naturally, this just made me more resistant to it. There was also a sort of “children are to be seen and not heard” implication, that I also thought was BS, even as an introverted child. I understood that it was a power thing. A lot of these terrible parenting attitudes are what inspired me to become an ECE; I want to help as many children as possible have a better childhood than me. I don’t want them to grow up feeling weird or that they have no support and no voice. My parenting style is authoritative, vs. my father’s authoritarian.

Family Is (The Most) Important - This is another thing pushed by my father; pretty much everything here is. He had far more power than my mother. I have a personal need for family, because I’m abused and always felt that hole. This attitude kind of makes it even worse. He also likes to say “blood is thicker than water,” ignoring the second half of the quote, and “family’s all you’ve got.” He pushes that you should be around terrible people, no matter what they do, because they’re ~family~. I also think this is because he has no friends, that he can’t perceive there ever being anything else. I know this “you need to stay with them” thing is BS, but I wonder that it’s not tied into my need for family, because I’ll keep tentatively poking at these people. I’ll pretty much take whatever I can get, though I now keep my distance, and will shut you down if you go all -ist on me. There was also this idea that family needed to appear perfect to the outside world, a “keeping the family secret” thing common in abusive households. I don’t imagine this has helped me feel comfortable talking to people in general, and I know I’m uncomfortable talking about them being abusive even among people who I know are also abused. Also, any sort of refusal to do anything (for any reason) was always perceived as an attack on the family.

- Isms Everywhere - Every -ism, all the time. Of particular impact on me, my dad would use a lot of female-specific slurs against me and against my mother, which fucked up my perception of women in general. For a long time I was of the mind that we are mostly whores and dumb bitches.

Learning & Education - Pushed by my dad, who thinks the only reason I don’t have a perfect 4.0 is because I’m lazy. This led to both perfectionism and feelings that I’m not good enough, as a person. I enjoy school (given I’m studying my field) and feel really, really awful that I don’t have a B.A., even though there’s pretty much no way I can ever afford one. I think about it every now and then. I think I should have a Master’s by now.

Materialism - My mom’s superficial, my dad’s real concerned about appearances, and wants us to have the best stuff. Because my dad was so hard against anything that had to do with “nerds” growing up, I never had that exposure to pop culture growing up; I didn’t grow up reading comics or watching Star Trek. All of this stuff I’ve had to seek out myself, as an adult, and I frequently feel isolated because of it. I hate when everyone is talking about a thing I don’t know about. So now I have this thing where I feel “behind” everyone else, and am scrambling to catch up. Which means a lot of interest in Stuff. Also, I’m broke, so occasionally I’ll get that “But don’t I also deserve a nice thing?” feeling when I have a bit more money than usual, and it’s hard to fight that off. My dad encourages it, too, being now very poor but going to Red Lobster a whole lot.

Parentification - My dad thinks it’s my job to comfort him, and somehow thought the message of Mary Poppins is that children need to support their father. My mom was also frequently hysterical, and demanded comfort, but I stayed the heck away from her. He also used to say that it “hurt [him] more than it hurt me” when he hurt me. Because it’s really all about him, and my pain is invalid. Ugh.

Unpredictable Discipline - My mother was extremely permissive and largely uninterested in providing guidance, and would just randomly lash out, then run away and cry. For some reason, my dad was of the mind that it was the women’s responsibility to do whatever-vaguely-related-to-family-thing, which included guidance?? So he’d no nothing at all until things progressed to a point where he just blows up, which results in the usual screaming and slamming things and blaming my mother or us for ruining the family. At that point, “we deserve it.” This usually resulted in extremely harsh punishment...which was then sometimes abruptly dropped.

“You’re not doing Enough” - Oh boy do I have issues with this. I can be really over-harsh on myself here. When I was a child, my mother was always demanding that we do chores, because children are expected to do all the chores as payback for their parents existing...but we were not allowed to, save filling/emptying the dishwasher. I always wanted to help cook, but was never given the opportunity, for fear I’d ruin something. And this is a thing with laundry in particular; my mother refused to let me do my own laundry for the longest time, because she was absolutely convinced I was going to flood the house with soap and water like they do on TV. Even into adulthood. When I was staying with her, she always seemed to have something to say when I did the laundry. This has not inspired me to try new things as an adult, and I’m easily discouraged if I don’t immediately do something well. Even though I know in my mind that sometimes you gotta try a bunch of times before you get it right, I kind of automatically go into “I can’t do it, I suck.” As an adult, this has become “Why aren’t you (married/having kids/working a salaried position in a cubicle somewhere/living in a house),” with the implication that I should be doing X because I’m Y years old. This just makes me feel bad about myself. Like I’m failing. Especially why don’t I have a B.A.? I should have a Master’s by now.