#i refuse to be a silent consequence to shitty actions. i am kind and choose to be and thats the world i wanna live in

[rabble-dabble]

its anger until they learn its a father. "men are like that," she told me, when he's still sleeping his blackout from last night off and she's been awake since six that morning. "they never admit to their feelings."

i've learned all the bad things to look out for. they gaslight reality into their version of things, strangers on the internet say, until the memory becomes true and the victim doubts their own sanity. i can't remember who started the arguement but somehow, i'm always wrong. i thought, maybe, i was just too immature to understand, too young to get why he was so cruel to me. you and your generation are so sensitive, he told me over and over again. you're so sensitive, it was just a joke. i cried in his arms when i reported my mom to cps, scared of her reaction, scared she'd come after me despite living thousands of miles away. the joke was me acting like my mom. you need help, he told me - the same man who screamed in my face with booze breath about how maybe i deserved what i got. maybe i deserved what i got - the same man who held me at birth and told me about my big bright eyes - and i am the reason i am so broken. get help, yells the same man who told me he went to therapy and got 'fixed'. i have been in therapy for six months.

my therapist tells me to move on - i should clarify, she's actually a counsler, a kind woman who i see every two weeks. "what do you want from this relationship?" she asks me. "my brother and i, we used to be at each others throats, and then when we got older-" i listen to how she found peace with her siblings. she doesn't mention her parents. i think about my brother, who got the worst of the abuse, and how we haven't talked in a while. "i want an apology, i want a sorry, i want a father," i tell her, crying as i remember my dad screaming at me. "it doesn't sound like he's the type of person who will give that to you," she responded.

we talk about expectations vs. reality. is this my fate? is this my world, to never expect recogniztion for what happened to me? "you need to let it go, it happened over six months ago," my aunt says. her husband won't put his food away before leaving to hunt. he leaves his trash on the counter, which she throws away as she shakes her head and throws another chore on her ever growing list of things to take care of. "i know your father. his behavior is in his namesake. you expect him to change, but he will never change." he is in his fourties. a grown man who is not even halfway through life; i turn 21 this year, and last year on my birthday he called me a bitch for not calling my mom while i was going to the movies with my best friend. i bought my own birthday cake, and he made me feel guilty for asking him to pick it up as if it was too much of a chore for him. he hadn't taken me to the dmv to get my license so i could legally start driving. "stop trying to change your father." change him? i am asking for the bare minimum. i am asking for a person who is supposed to love me to love me kindly. i asked him if we could get therapy together. he told me no.

my counsler said i was stuck between wanting a relationship and needing to move on. "you need to find peace." but i don't know if i will find the peace she means - every male figure i have seen has been given every reason not to try harder. my mother's boyfriend didn't look after his own kids, even when i had to leave school to wash my baby sister after she vomitted from a fever. my dad never brought in the groceries, just sat in a chair drinking mike's lemonade while he watched me and my stepmom and two stepsisters bring in the bags and put it all away. my aunt's husband made their dog have puppies recently- and my aunt is exhausted from taking care of them, despite not wanting them. what peace is there to find here? to find peace with how the world "works", with how these men will do anything to be incompetent to their partners? to their families? i am just angry. i don't want to find peace in these situations! these women deserve better. i deserve better. but i am told i can do nothing to change it- i am merely the child of a father. worse- i was born a daughter, a servant; a peacemaker. "i am angry!" i told my therapist. "it's not fair!"

"i know," she says. i cry and think about an apology i will never get. all men are- i have heard this over and over. i do not want to be the person who finds peace in this broken machine, in those broken words. i want to tear it all down, piece by piece, until there are no more 'all men are'. i want to be angry, i want to be vicious, to snarl back as i refuse to be another victim finding peace with this standard of incompetent men. they can do better, i scream to the machine, tearing at rusting metal with my hardened hands, hold them accountable, for the love of god, be angry!

if i'm to find peace i want to do it bloodsoaked. if i have to find peace with no remorse then i will do it with sharp claws and teeth, with gentle hands but an aware mind. i do not want to find peace with dull contempt, i want to find it with the knowledge i will not allow my life to be dictated by this low standard. my dad tells me you will never truly be a real man. i tell him with a smile, at least i won't be a man like you.

[anathemanonymous]

Spilling it in the first person: truths I need to accept

Well, it's not going well. I feel like I am not moving forward,but backward. I held myself back by trying to do the right thing.

I gave you the whole house in trade for my freedom. There was no end date on the agreement. It simply stated you would get the property and all the responsibility of the associated bills. It also stated you would agree to hold me harmless.

Well, that didnt happen.

I'm still stuck 4 years after leaving. The attorney told me not to pay off the foreclosure but I did. Twice. I stopped the process of filing contempt in August. She was livid. She offered me the option to have you removed from the house and I could keep it. Well, I had just signed the apt lease. A one year contract. How was I supposed to afford two house payments? I didn't want that responsibility. I left the house to prove I wasnt married to this man for the money. He refused to leave. So I did.

Both our names remain on the title. Bank cant take me off. You refuse to sell. You cannot afford to refinance.

What are you trying to do here?

As I am being held in place by obligation you insist upon complaining about how it is my fault that you are suffering. How you are refusing to cooperate. Refuse to work or pay bills. Refuse to accept that I left. Refuse to reach out or grow in healthy ways. Refuse to stop drinking or doing drugs. Refuse to try to improve our shitty relationship. Refuse to reach out to your own child. Refuse to sell the house. Refuse to clean it. Trick me into calling off the attorney at the last foreclosure: you say you will pay me back the $5500 and we can fix up the house. I tell you how uneasy I feel about this deal. You tell me to trust you.

I clean and clean on my days off work and you sit and ridicule and drink. You tell me it's no rush. You literally have no money to fix it up. I have gone round and around with Fred at the agency to get him to agree to put the house on the market and how we need to sell to a qualified buyer. How to ensure no consequences from this home being doomed. How to do the right thing. How to honor the promises to the agency and to the bank. Its ridiculous how often I've triaged with your mother. How many phone calls and notes kept on the research of creating a plan to salvage the property and you.

And you. I have given you money. I have paid your debts. I have taken you to the doctor. I set you up for evaluation of ADHD. You cry about your health. You cant get off the couch. You cry about being broke, depressed with no reason to live. When I speak to you, you continue to put me down, to accuse me of never caring. You accuse me of malicious crimes against you for the past 16 years. You claim I just used you. My entire life was built around supporting you. You accuse me of going against you deliberately. You blame for your behaviors of rude comments and refusals to cooperate or participate in anything related to parenting or household chores or budgeting or my feelings. I was threatened by your recklessness. I was doomed to being overly responsible but got nothing but contempt in return.

There wasn't peace. There wasnt love. No support. Constant arguments and blow ups. Constant strife. Constant pain. Carrying your weight twice my size. Trying to rape me. Trying to negate me. Trying to minimize me. Criticizing every fucking thing I did or said or believed. Faking it in front of your friends and parents. Giving nothing but expecting me to provide for your every need on a whim. Needing help with your business books, spending hours only to be discredited and rejected. You put your shit first. You blocked my path with your messiness. You left it all up to me but gave me no credit, no control and no power. Then accuse me of doing the same to you. You ridiculed my hobbies, my goals, my dreams. You chose your friends over me. You drank to the point of black out every day. You stopped working. Your buisness partner abandoned you even after he stole from the business account, you kept him around. You kept giving him your share of our household bills instead of pay our bills. So I paid. You stole my tax returns for years. You were rude and inconsiderate toward how any of your shitty choices affected me and our family. You have withheld love and given only pain. You ignored my feelings and needs. And now you complain and claim to suffer worse than me?

What about me??

To top it off: after moving out and returning on a regular basis to check in with you even as you deliberately were harming me financially and emotionally...I get hate when I remove the loaded guns in the house bc you're suicidal from all the drugs and no sleep and not eating and not working and I worry and I feel sorry and I want to keep things normal so I see the mess and try not to do the cleaning, the yardwork.

I play with the dogs and feed them and you always leave when I arrive ...or start an argument until you chase me away.

After 4 years of being ridiculed and blamed....instead of being heard and validated.

I have to actually accept that you are openly and intentionally holding me hostage financially and emotionally. You admit it on text. Your mother claims you were just drinking and you didnt mean it. What will it take to justify my actions?

Its been 4 years of waiting on pins and needles. Of not breathing. Or being stuck. Not to mention the 7 years before I left the house. Trying to fix things.

Looking back, I've never received emotional support from you. Other than to stay away from my family.

I have a hard time accepting the fact that you didn't improve yourself when I left. You got worse. You stopped trying long before I left. And I hoped you would recognize how awful you'd become. I was risking a chance that you would change into a responsible adult. Learn to care for me in real ways. Appreciate me, quite frankly. I was looking for appreciation. Recognition. Acceptance. Acknowledgement. The elements of love.

I left because there was no love.

It was the right thing to do.

Unhealthy relationships are meant to fall apart.

Blame me or blame you. It doesn't matter. It takes two to have a relationship. It becomes one sided.

Wait. It was always one sided. I wanted to believe it was a mutual relationship. I dreamed it. I created the illusion of it. But it could not be felt. Bc it was a mirage. It only looked like something real. It felt empty. Like a shell. Like a home without a foundation. Ready to fall apart like a Hollywood studio prop.

I was lying to myself the whole time.

The only way out now is to tell the truth. To let shit fall apart by not adding to it. To stop putting in.

But it feels wrong to let my house go into foreclosure. It feels wrong to file with a lawyer. It feels so wrong to do nothing to help, on purpose. Yet it is the right way. Right? This world is absolutely ridiculous. Just fucking back breaking and disheartening. People are so viscous. Banks and lawyers. Without hearts. Empty motherfucking shells of humans.

I knew the truth but didn't want to face it. Denial is so powerful. It can change the way you see things. Or exclude what you do not want to see. Or feel.

I wanted to believe love could make my dream come true, become real. Make me real.

All the proof was in your actions. Fighting me every step of the way. Calling me crazy. You're right. It is crazy to live that way. I agree.

So if it's TRUE : then I have to accept the reality that you don't care about me. Either you cant, or you are just unwilling. You say you love me. But what does love mean? It seems you only care that I care for you. How much I can give and prove that I care. Prove by sacrificing my needs, time, money, energy.

Every fiber of my being is going against the fact that the only way out of this situation is divorce and foreclosure of my home. Abandoning you. Why does it feel unethical and immoral? Huge conflict within.

I tried to help you and to salvage my credit, I have spent over $15,000 to bail it out . ..because I'd already put so much into it that I want to keep on the same path. I dont want a different anonymous path. I want to stay where its familiar. But then again, why? I've never been happy on this path. From experience, moving on does not guarantee happiness either.

I'm standing my ground. I'm honoring my values of integrity and refusing to tolerate abuse and nonsense.

But yes it's hard to move on bc I am ever-wanting to keep convincing myself and the world ...proof of how mature and dedicated I am, of my own goodness, my own kindness, my own value.

If my value rests on a successful career in marriage then I have discredited myself. I have failed to be a quality product. Yikes.

..because I hid behind it, and I'd do anything to keep up the facade. I am afraid to be seen as alone, maybe. I am afraid to stand up against the abuse bc it means I have failed. That I am faulty. Not worthy. Maybe I asked for it. Or deserve it.

Shame is a terrible feeling.

By the virtue of which I choose to honor, I thereby become less valuable. I protected your reputation. I kept silent. I protected my own reputation as well. Now I am throwing it out the window. Breaking a promise to myself to never do that again. Yes, I have experienced this all before. Many times. Throughout my lifetime. I had to destroy my own identity.

Because I could pretend I belonged. I could pretend I had a healthy relationship and family. But the sacrifice was too much. And I was so off-balance. I was shut off. Closed down. Depressed. Sick.

You refused to lie for me. So I left. We dont have to keep pretending to play house. Maybe that disappointed me. You want to play cops and robbers. I refused. Lol. Whatever.

And maybe the ultimate cage I try to break free from is being forced to stay small, a repeating pattern from throughout my entire childhood. It is the shame I carry. The unworthy nature of my wounded inner child.

When confronted with opening up I remain skeptical and scared. I beat myself up. I feel rejected, disillusioned, hurt, betrayed, and I am ashamed of showing that I am being harmed. I am am afraid to speak up. When I do, I get shut down by you, your family, my attorney, the court, society.

This triple whammy has knocked me off my feet every time I try to stand up. I feel insulted by the slights of neighbors, the sounds of the outside world. I speak up against emotional manipulation and I feel the feather of rejection like a sledgehammer.

... I am accused of being crazy. I post on social media. I get very little support. The message I'm receiving is: your perception is inaccurate, we all have a human right to happiness and respect but you should be ashamed of exposing yourself like that. It makes you look vulnerable, it tarnishes our code of taboo subjects, think about your reputation, bc we as a society are not comfortable with displays of vulnerability. Call a hotline or something.

You know what? I dont need a fucking hotline. My counselor didnt even recognize me during our last phone session. Fuck this system. I'm on my own. And if I have to become more viscous and bitter to fit in, I prefer to stand alone.