#my 1st cousins are coming up in two weeks didn’t discuss with my mom where they’d be staying

[cloveroctobers]

Idk why these adults think it’s cool now at our big ages to still share beds with your cousins (sure that shit was fine when we were kids I guess…) like nah people like their own space and why are you trying to micromanage a house that isn’t even yours? Yes this is me talking shit about my granny it’s mad annoying lol

[prorevenge]

Manipulative Power hungry Aunt torments my family for years. Costs her $300000

Dealt with my shitty manipulative abusive Aunt all my life, finally got revenge.

Players: Myself (M late 30s), Sister (3 year younger), Aunt (Older "Sister" to my Mother), Mother (Single Mom, adopted, no blood relation to my Aunt). Cousins (3 total, 1M, 2F. I have good relationships with them now, mostly).

My estranged father who had been living several counties over, is pretty much out of the picture by the time my parents got their divorce when I was 9. Due to financial hardship, we were forced to live with my Aunt and the nightmare of a household we would soon find ourselves in. My Aunt married into Georgia "Wealth" and you can figure out what that means on your own. She had 3 kids and eventually caught her husband having an affair. It's a huge scandal, she gets the house, the kids and a fat payout from the family attorney. This is important because my Aunt didn't do a damn thing in her life to earn her money, her house, her lifestyle or basically anything. She was born poor along with my Mom.

Under her household, she was drunk with power. Years of therapy have allowed me to recognize that certain people when in a position of power, get a perverse pleasure in ordering others to do their bidding. She was the strictest of authoritarians in every possible way you could imagine. Chores had to be completed by an exact specific time. Vacuuming by 3:45pm, Dishes by 3:55pm, Laundry days for my Mother us kids were Tues/Thurs 5:35pm-7:55pm. If it was still running, she would shut the power off for the two units. As we grew older, her own kids opted to stay with their father for full time custody and she had them on Weekends. Even they couldn't stand her when she was in charge and in the house. As time passed, she got them less and less opting for alternating weekends as Highschool activities took precedence over time with Mother.

For my sister and I, the large 6 bedroom house was not ours for the taking. My mom had to pay rent as well as rent for 1 bedroom as that was all she could afford on her salary. We had to share a bedroom until my second year of HS. All the while there was 1 spare unused bedroom available at all times. My Aunt needed this for "Guests" when they stayed over. Not one guest stayed there in the 10 years I was under that roof. Finally the church we attended told my Aunt to give up the spare bedroom so my sister can have her own room as it was "unhealthy" for two teenagers sharing a room together like that. That infuriated my Aunt because someone told her what to do in her own household. My sister and I got the brunt of her wrath. As my Mom's salary was tapped out, my sister and I had do extra chores like mowing the lawn, trimming the shrubs, cleaning the pool which we could no longer use without her being outside watching us.

My Aunt's behavior was becoming more and more outrageous and disconnected from society. For example, she had always snapped her fingers when she wanted to get someones attention, but it was getting far more frequent and she would blow up into a tirade if either my sister and I didn't obey. Her own kids tried repeatedly to tell her that the shit she was doing was wrong but she wouldn't listen.Eventually they wanted nothing to do with her outside of the home. She was a tyrant there and repeated intervention to get her to see the folly of her ways would fall on deaf ears.

I Snapped:

All through HS I had no confidence as a person. I was weak willed and growing ever distant from friends and society. I say this in all truthfulness and fear, that had circumstances continued the way they had been going, I could very well had taken a gun to myself or worse, to others around me. I was that bad off.

I had just graduated HS and started my first semester of community college. I'm 2 weeks into my classes attending from home when my Aunt drops a bomb on me. "You owe me $$$ for this months rent, the same amount for next months rent as well. It is the 27th after all. You're an Adult now. You're out of HS and working now, so you need to pay rent" The fuck? I blew a fucking gasket as I yelled back. "You can't just suddenly decide to charge me rent just because you feel like it. I need 30 days notice, I have rights".

My Aunt yelled at me some bullshit excuse that she had discussed this with my mother and it was decided that I needed to pay my own rent now. In some miraculous backbone move, of which I still have no idea how I stood up to her, I yelled right back at her, "If I'm an Adult, then treat me like and talk to me about rental agreements. I'll start paying you rent in 30 days starting the 1st." I turned my back to her and walked away with my fists balled tight. I was furious with anger but I walked away. My Aunt saw my fists from behind and screamed bloody murder that I was going to attack her. No, I wasn't. She snapped her fingers at me repeatedly on my tail to get my attention but I didn't turn around. I needed to cool off and clear my head. As I turned the corner, she grabbed my wrist hard yelling "I'm not finished talking to you". I threw my still balled up fist forward keeping with my stride to break her grip as I hadn't stopped my momentum. This caused her grabbing arm to slam hard into the corner of the wall that I had just turned into. She screamed in pain but I left the house and took off.

The aftermath of that incident was that my Aunt called the cops on me in an attempt to press charges. She was taken to the hospital and suffered a fractured wrist and she was put in a cast/sling (don't know as I never saw it and never inquired further). Her story changed every time she told the cops what happened while my story was spot on every time. I can still recall that moment down to the smell in the house, where I was facing, the working and non-working lightbulbs etc. Forever ingrained in me. I was kicked out of the house and I couldn't visit my sister or my Mom there at the house again. Fine by me as I didn't want to see my bitch Aunt ever again. I was happy to meet my Mother and sister at the local diner or outlet. We could be ourselves there and not hostages in our own home.

Years Later:

My Mom wised up and got out of that abusive relationship with her sister and moved out on her own. She got a temporary nice place, invested wisely and with the help from the church, got help getting a place of her own. In 2009 after the housing crisis, she bought her own place that she could never have afforded on her own prior the Market crash. But some good came out of it. She wept knowing my Sister (and her family) and myself can come visit any time and stay.

Over the years I've been able to forgive my Aunt. Not forget, Forgive. I've let go a lot of my anger and hatred toward her that she put me through. When she has no leverage or control over us, she's a somewhat decent person for being a total bitch of a person. My Cousin's have calmed down, heard my side of what happened those years ago and know what kind of person I am compared to what kind of person their Mother is. They chose to believe me and know I didn't hit her or strike her or beat her across the face like she continues to claim.

The Revenge:

While I have been able to forgive my Aunt for what she has done to me, I cannot forgive her for what she did to my Mother. Kept her in financial hardship for a decade while she sat on a bank account full of cash and assets. Or what she did to my Sister. Forced her to pay for damages because the water heater burst while my Aunt and Mother was away one weekend leaving my sister at home. She didn't discover the flooded rooms for hours. My Aunt's reasoning, "It was her responsibility to watch the house." Not the responsibility of the home owner to maintain/replace the water heater before it goes. Lets leave that Upfront $5000 financial burden before the Flood insurance kicks in on a 16 year old girl.

I've had little to no contact with my Aunt since I was kicked out of the house nearly 2 decades ago. But I do keep in constant contact with my cousins. While I'm not going to divulge what I do for a living, I can say that I work with and for the Government. I've worked my ass off getting to where I'm at today. I'm known for being truthful, wise and giving good advise when asked. Because of this, I often talk financially with my cousins. All of whom are money-smart and are doing well for themselves. They often then relay this information to their scheming mother who has no mind for business and investments. All that money she got from her house sale, her divorce settlement, her previous investments is pretty much gone. I spent YEARS planning on the perfect trap and it took a long time to prepare everything to make sure everything appeared right.

IANAL and I don't pretend to know the law but I do know the regulations and laws pertaining to insider information. This is not that. 100% certain of it and if I ever go to court, I know my lawyer has a solid case in my defense. But is this a grey area, most definitely. I let slip to my Cousins about some future real estate plans near my Aunt's new area of living. It "may" be worth a lot more because of future development taking place in the area. All of that was true and backed up by what was in the News paper and New Construction signs that newly appeared on Google Maps (at the time). The rest was fabricated by myself backed up by actual information I looked up on real estate websites and on projects I was working on through my work.

The Telephone game takes place and a few weeks later I presume, my Aunt starts making phone calls to real estate agents trying to buy lots of Land in the undeveloped shitty area of her new house. Over the course of a few months to a half a year, she spends $300,000 of her last remaining savings on land hoping it will pay out when the area around it gets developed in the upcoming years.

Only, HUD/Government/City doesn't have any plans to develop in those immediate areas. In fact, analysis showed that building in those areas was poor planning and would cost the tax payers twice to three times as much as the land was not environmentally sound. It was best to build 6 miles away.

This post was long overdue because it's been over 2 years since my Aunt purchased Land that is basically worthless. See, she won't sell the land unless she gets at least the same price she paid for it because she's the OWNER of that land. Can't tell her what to do on her own land. Sweet Karma strikes in a way I couldn't possibly have foreseen. My cousin informed me that the value of the land has decreased significantly because it's not environmentally sound to build anything commercial there. But it's zoned for commercial use. Currently 3 of the 4 blocks of land she purchased are just weed farms next to eye sore abandoned buildings or industrial complexes. Nobody can build on it and nor does anyone want to buy it. Sucks to be her!

Best part is, my cousins have absolutely no idea that I set them up for their Mother to take the fall. These environmental results are relatively new and the perfect cover to say why the Project changed locations 6 miles away.

TL:DR Abusive Aunt torments my family and myself for a decade and more. Decades later, I am in a position to trick her buying worthless land. Icing on the cake, that land can't be used for it's intended purpose and has devalued significantly.

(source) story by (/u/Limecherrry)

[monaedroid]

She rose to fame as an endlessly inventive pop android. Now, she's finally revealing the real person waiting inside

Janelle Monáe is crying in her spacesuit. It's early April in Atlanta, and she's in one of the basement studios of her Wondaland Records headquarters, surrounded by computer monitors and TV screens, one of them running a screensaver that displays images of her heroes: Prince, Martin Luther King Jr., Pam Grier, Tina Turner, Lupita Nyong'o, David Bowie. She's about to reveal, for the first time, something the world has long guessed, something her closest friends and family already know, something she's long been loath to say in public. As she sings on a song from her new album, Dirty Computer,"Let the rumors be true." Janelle Monáe is not, she finally admits, the immaculate android, the "alien from outer space/The cybergirl without a face" she's claimed to be over a decade's worth of albums, videos, concerts and even interviews – she is, instead, a flawed, messy, flesh-and-blood 32-year-old human being.

And she has another rumor to confirm. "Being a queer black woman in America," she says, taking a breath as she comes out, "someone who has been in relationships with both men and women – I consider myself to be a free-ass motherfucker." She initially identified as bisexual, she clarifies, "but then later I read about pansexuality and was like, ‘Oh, these are things that I identify with too.' I'm open to learning more about who I am."

It's a lovely spacesuit she's wearing, a form-fitting white NASA artifact complete with a commander patch on one arm and an American flag on the other. She's put it on for no reason at all – there are no cameras in sight – as she lounges around Wondaland. The outfit is a remnant, perhaps, of the android persona, known as Cindi Mayweather, that she fed us all these years: a messianic, revolutionary robot who fell in love with a human and vowed to free the rest of the androids.

Early in her career, Monáe was insecure about living up to impossible showbiz ideals; the persona, the androgynous outfits, the inflexible commitment to the storyline both on- and offstage, served in part as protective armor. "It had to do with the fear of being judged," she says. "All I saw was that I was supposed to look a certain way coming into this industry, and I felt like I [didn't] look like a stereotypical black female artist."

She is also a perfectionist, a tendency that's helped her career and hindered her emotional life; portraying a flawless automaton was also a bit of wish fulfillment. It's one of the many reasons she thought she had a "computer virus" that needed cleaning, which led her to years of therapy, starting before the 2010 release of her debut, The ArchAndroid. "I felt misunderstood," she says. "I was like, ‘Before I self-destruct, before I become a confused person in front of the world, let me seek some help.' I was afraid for anybody to see me not at the top of my game. That obsession was too much for me."

So she overcompensated, as she puts it, leaving fans to puzzle over the sight and sound of a dark-skinned, androgynously dressed black woman creating Afro-futuristic fantasias as trippy as the Parliament-Funkadelic soundscapes she grew up hearing. She became a pop anomaly, a sometimes incongruous interloper in the universes of her earliest supporters, Big Boi and Puff Daddy, the latter having signed her to a partnership with Bad Boy Records in 2008. The ArchAndroidwas a buzzy introduction, and 2013's Electric Lady – certainly the first progged-out concept album in the history of Bad Boy – established her as one of the 21st century's most inventive voices. Years before Frank Ocean, Solange, Beyoncé and SZA pushed arty, alternative R&B to the mainstream, Monáe was already there, bridging the gap between neo-soul and all that was to come, unafraid to fuse rock, funk, hip-hop (when she feels like it, as on her recent single "Django Jane," she's a top-flight rapper), R&B, electronica and campy, drama-kid theatricality.

She always ducked questions about her sexuality ("I only date androids" was a stock response) but embedded the real answers in her music. "If you listen to my albums, it's there," she says. She cites "Mushrooms & Roses" and "Q.U.E.E.N.," two songs that reference a character named Mary as an object of affection. In the 45-minute film accompanying Dirty Computer, "Mary Apple" is the name given to female "dirty computers" taken captive and stripped of their real names, one of whom is played by Tessa Thompson. (The actress has been rumored to be Monáe's girlfriend, though Monáe won't discuss her dating life.) The original title of "Q.U.E.E.N.," she notes, was "Q.U.E.E.R.," and you can still hear the word on the track's background harmonies.

Monáe is the CEO of her own label, a CoverGirl model and a movie star, appearing in the Oscar-winning Moonlight and the Oscar-nominated Hidden Figures, two hits led by black casts. In both films, she tackles black American stories that don't typically get the big-screen treatment. "Our stories are being erased, basically," she says of her attachment to those scripts, which made her "want to tell my story." Monáe does worry that the human behind her masks may not be enough. She has asked aloud, including in therapy, "What if people don't think I'm as interesting as Cindi Mayweather?" She'll miss the freedom of being the android. "I created her, so I got to make her be whatever I wanted her to be. I didn't have to talk about the Janelle Monáe who was in therapy. It's Cindi Mayweather. She is who I aspire to be." On Dirty Computer, the only hints of sci-fi are in the title and the storyline of the accompanying film. The lyrics are flesh-and-blood confessions of both physical and emotional insecurity, punctuated with sexual liberation. They're the unfiltered desires of an overthinker letting herself speak without pause, for once. And she wants to help listeners gain the courage to be dirty computers too. "I want young girls, young boys, nonbinary, gay, straight, queer people who are having a hard time dealing with their sexuality, dealing with feeling ostracized or bullied for just being their unique selves, to know that I see you," she says in a tone befitting the commander patch on her arm. "This album is for you. Be proud."

Monáe grew up in a massive, devoutly Baptist family in Kansas City, Kansas, or as she likes to put it, "I got 50 first cousins!" Not all of them know details of her romantic life, but they have almost certainly seen her wear sheer pants and share a lollipop with Thompson in the "Make Me Feel" video. "I literally do not have time," she says, laughing, "to hold a town-hall meeting with my big-ass family and be like, ‘Hey, news flash!' " She worries that when we visit Kansas City tomorrow, they'll bring it up: "There are people in my life that love me and they have questions, and I guess when I get there, I'll have to answer those questions."

Over the years, she's heard some members of her family, mostly distant ones, say certain upsetting things. "A lot of this album," she says, "is a reaction to the sting of what it means to hear people in my family say, ‘All gay people are going to hell.' "

She began questioning the Bible and her family's Baptist faith early on. Now, she says, "I serve the God of love" – love, she's determined, is the common factor among all religions, an idea Stevie Wonder expanded on in a Dirty Computer interlude.

When we arrive in the flat, industrial Kansas side of Kansas City, her family doesn't actually have any questions – or anything unkind to say, for that matter. There's just a whole lot of love for their homegrown superstar.

Janelle Monáe Robinson was born here on December 1st, 1985, to a mom who worked as a janitor and a dad who was in the middle of a 21-year battle with crack addiction. Her parents separated when Monáe was less than a year old, and her mother later married the father of Janelle's younger sister, Kimmy.

Monáe's loving warnings about the sheer size of her family ring true as soon as we step into her old neighborhood. On one street, her maternal grandmother owned several homes in a row that housed cousins, aunts, uncles and Monáe herself. A few minutes away is her paternal great-grandmother's pastel-coated house. Monáe spent a significant portion of her time there – it was her main connection to her dad and his family as he went in and out of prison; their relationship was rocky until he got sober 13 years ago. Another short car ride away is her maternal Aunt Glo's home, where we meet her mom. "She's my favorite slice of pie," her Auntie Fats says, referring to Monáe's familial nickname of "pun'kin."

Monáe was raised in a working-class community called Quindaro. It started as a settlement established by Native Americans and abolitionists just prior to the Civil War, and became a refuge for black Americans escaping slavery via the Underground Railroad. A few weeks before our visit, vandals painted swastikas and "Hail Satan" on a statue of abolitionist John Brown in the neighborhood. It's since been repainted. "I know nobody in this neighborhood did that," her great-grandmother says, shaking her head. "Outsiders."

On the Missouri side of the bridge, Kansas City is predominately white, but Monáe's community is overwhelmingly black. "I would read about where I was from," she says, "and understand who's really disadvantaged coming from these environments. It sucks. It's like that for brown folks." It's hard to miss her family's religiosity – they hardly get a sentence out without a mention of God's blessings. At 91, Monáe's great-grandma still monitors the halls at the local vacation Bible school with a switch in hand. During our visit, she sits behind a piano to lead a gospel singalong. Monáe, beside an aunt and a cousin, joins in, belting "Call Him Up and Tell Him What You Want" and "Savior, Do Not Pass Me By."

Monáe is never more relaxed during our time together than when she's in Kansas City. Her Midwestern drawl comes back as she screams and sings while running into the arms of her cousins, aunts and uncles, many of whom she gets to see only during the holidays or tour stops nearby. At one point, she curls up into her mom's lap while they look at a homemade poster full of sepia-toned childhood pics. "She was a delightful baby," Auntie Fats recalls.

Monáe's family members all share different versions of the same story: She was born to be a star, and she made that clear as soon as she gained motor skills. There was that time she got escorted out of church for insisting on singing Michael Jackson's "Beat It" in the middle of the service. There were the talent shows for Juneteenth where she covered "The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill" three years in a row and won each time. She was the star of the school musicals, except for The Wiz her senior year, when she lost the role of Dorothy because she had to leave the audition early to pick up her mom at work. She's still a bit miffed about not getting that part.

Monáe soon passed a bigger audition, for the American Musical and Dramatic Academy, and headed to New York. She studied musical theater and shared a small apartment with a cousin where she didn't even have a bed to herself. When she wasn't in class, she was working.

Meanwhile, an old friend was having the college experience Monáe desired, in Atlanta, so she relocated. The rest is well-trod history in the myth-building of Monáe: She was an Afro'd neo-soul singer strumming her guitar on college quads and working at Office Depot. She was fired from that job for using one of the company's computers to respond to a fan's e-mail, an incident that inspired the song "Lettin' Go."

That song caught the attention of Big Boi, who put her on Outkast's Idlewild and helped connect her with Sean Combs. "I'm-a be honest with you," her dad says, recalling an invite to one of Monáe's shows in Atlanta, where Combs was supposed to be in the house. "I was like, ‘Yeah, right.' I didn't think Puff Daddy was coming."

Skepticism aside, Michael Robinson was proud of the invite. He'd recently gotten sober, and the two were repairing their relationship. He spent much of Janelle's childhood hearing about her immense talents from the more-present members of their family. He was honored that they had come far enough for Monáe to want him to be there for such an important concert. But he still didn't believe Puffy would be there.

"I go down there with my two cousins, and she says, ‘Dad, everyone's gonna know you're not from here. Your jeans are creased.' " Fashion faux pas aside – he insists he hasn't creased his jeans since – Robinson was in for a pleasant surprise when one of his cousins spotted Combs and Big Boi in the back. It was the beginning of his daughter's new life, and he was just in time to be along for the journey. "I remember thinking, ‘This is what the big time is like,' " he muses. "They had all the cameras, all the lights. It was all about Janelle."

Wondaland Arts Society's headquarters feels like a utopian synthesis of Monáe's past lives in Kansas City and Manhattan. It sits inconspicuously in the midst of suburban Atlanta and looks like every other neighborhood home, with its two floors and brick exterior. Inside is much more ostentatious, with vintage clocks wallpapering the foyer, pristine white couches in the communal living spaces, and books and records everywhere.

It mimics the close-knit, constant accessibility of her childhood in Kansas City, with all its artists popping in and out of the space throughout each day to record new music, rehearse for shows and present the final product to the rest of the collective. At one point, the singer-rapper Jidenna shows up, having recently returned from a trip to Africa – everyone immediately starts teasing him about his newly buff physique.

Simultaneously, Chuck Lightning, seemingly the more extroverted half of two-man funk act Deep Cotton, who make their own music as well as work with Monáe, grabs a bowl of quinoa from the kitchen as Monáe doles out decisions on which version of the "Pynk" video will be released (they settle on the one without the spoken-word love poem that appears within the song in the film).

Monáe recorded most of Dirty Computer here, in a small studio with Havana-inspired decor. Guests and collaborators ranged from Grimes to Brian Wilson, who added harmonies to the title track. The album's liner notes cite Bible verses and a recent Quincy Jones interview alongside Monica Sjöö's The Great Cosmic Mother and Ryan Coogler's Black Panther.

But she was particularly close to one inspiration. Monáe was good friends with Prince, who personally blessed the album's glossy camp tone and synthed-out hooks. "When Prince heard this particular direction, he was like, ‘That's what y'all need to be doing,' " Lightning says. "He picked out that sound as what was resonating with him." Prince gave highly specific music and equipment recommendations from the era they were drawing on, including Gary Numan, whom he loved. "The most powerful thing he could do was give us the brushes to paint with," Lightning says.

Rumors spread that Prince co-wrote the single "Make Me Feel," which features a "Kiss"-like guitar riff. "Prince did not write that song," says Monáe, who sorely missed his advice during the production process. "It was very difficult writing this album without him." Prince was the first person to get a physical copy of The ArchAndroid – she presented the CD to him with a flower and the titles written out by hand. "As we were writing songs, I was like, ‘What would Prince think?' And I could not call him. It's a difficult thing to lose your mentor in the middle of a journey they had been a part of."

Stevie Wonder was another early fan of Monáe, and a conversation between them – Wonder insisted she record it – appears as an interlude on Dirty Computer. At one point, years ago, her budding friendships with both legends collided: She had to choose between playing with Prince at Madison Square Garden or with Wonder in Los Angeles. Prince encouraged her to pick Stevie.

On election night in 2016, Monáe found herself experiencing an unfamiliar emotion. "For the first time," she says, "I felt scared." Overnight, she went from living in a country whose president loved her music and had her perform on the White House lawn to one where it felt like her right to exist was threatened. "I felt like if I wake up tomorrow," she says, "are people going to feel they have the right to just, like, kill me now?"

Monáe had already been a committed activist. In 2015, with members of Wondaland, she created "Hell You Talmbout," which demands we say the names of black Americans who have been victims of racial violence and police brutality. Before #MeToo and Time's Up, Monáe created an organization, Fem the Future, which stemmed from her frustrations about opportunities for women in the music industry. She was called on to perform at the 2017 Women's March and to speak about Time's Up while introducing Kesha at the Grammys. "We come in peace, but we mean business," she told the cheering crowd.

That sums up Monáe's mindset in the Trump era. She hopes not to destroy the oppressors but to change their minds. "The conversations might not happen with people in the position of power," she says, "but they can happen through a movie, they can happen through a song, they can happen through an album, they can happen through a speech on TV. Most of them will probably turn off their TVs, but . . ."

She's in a New York hotel now, two weeks before the album's release. "There's some anxiety there, but I feel brave," she says, teetering between her typical sternness and a bit of vulnerable shakiness. No tears will be shed today. "My musical heroes did not make the sacrifices they did for me to live in fear." Her activism isn't the focus of Dirty Computer, but it's there, hovering above every note. She ended band rehearsal in Atlanta by asking the musicians to reflect on how American this album is. Monáe's America is the one on the fringes; it accepts the outsiders and the computers with viruses, like the ones she thought she had.

She understands the significance of now making her personal life a bigger, louder part of her art. She cites the conversation around one of her films as an example of how she might use her own story to engage with more-conservative listeners. "When I did Hidden Figures, there were some Republican white men tweeting about it and how they just felt bad. You could feel through their tweets that they were just like, ‘These black women did help us get to space. How could we treat them like that?' "

Meanwhile, she's again anticipating questions from her family back in Kansas. She seems more worried about them than what anyone else has to say. Still, Dirty Computer is meant to be a celebration, and if she loses a few people along the way, Monáe seems OK with that risk.

"Through my experiences, I hope people are seen and heard," she says, sitting at a hotel-room desk, dressed up from a day of promo in a puffy black-and-red jacket, matching red pants and terry-cloth hotel slippers. "I may make some mistakes. I may have to learn on the go, but I'm open to this journey." She sighs, voice confident and stare unfaltering. "I need to go through this. We need to go through this. Together. I'm going to make you empathize with dirty computers all around the world."

https://www.rollingstone.com/music/features/cover-story-janelle-monae-prince-new-lp-her-sexuality-w519523

[phawareglobal]

Jamie and Diana Cruz - Race Against PH - phaware® interview 346

Jaime Cruz is a caregiver to his daughter, Diana, who is this year's Pediatric Courage Award Winner of the 20th Annual Virtual Race Against PH 5K/Fun Run, taking place November 1st, 2020.

In this episode, they discuss Diana's pulmonary hypertension diagnosis and how she navigates this disease. #raph20virtual

Register for the 20th Annual Race Against PH 5K: med.stanford.edu/raceagainstph

Register to watch the LIVESTREAM event Sunday 11/1 @ 9am PT:  https://us02web.zoom.us/webinar/register/WN_gu-7DZyuRIaNTFjRRMTd7w

Enter this week's Costume Contest (Oct 26-30) 

Steve Van Wormer: Hello, and welcome to, I'm Aware That I'm Rare, the phaware®podcast. I'm your host, Steve Van Dormer, from Phaware Global Association and today we're bringing you the last of Stanford's 20th Annual Race Against PH podcasts that are pointing to this great event taking place virtually November 1st, 2020. Today, we've got a real great pair of guests for you here, Jamie Cruz and his daughter, Diana Cruz, who's a 15-year-old pulmonary hypertension patient. They are from Sacramento, California. Jamie and Diana, welcome!

Diana Cruz: Hi.

Jamie Cruz: Hi.

Steve: So Jamie, tell me a little bit about what led to Diana's diagnosis. When did you know that something just wasn't right with your daughter?

Jamie: When she was little, she would get tired and purple in her face and it was hard for her to breath. At the time, it was happening more and more. One time, she fainted, so we had to take her to emergency room. They didn’t know what caused that, so we come back home. When she relaxed, she would come back to normal. That happened three times. The third time, she got really bad, so that's when we had to do more studies to see what was causing this. Finally, a cardiologist here in Sacramento, contacted Dr. Jeffrey Feinstein in Lucile Salter Packard Children's Hospital. Dr. Feinstein [along with Dr. Rachel Hopper and Michelle Ogawa, CPNP] started to think about the pulmonary hypertension. That was the problem with Diana. We had to take her to Stanford. They did a lot of studies for almost two months. They finally found that it was high pressure in her lungs, so they start to give her some medication. The first medication she took was Remodulin® (treprostinil) injection. That is what she's on right now. That medication is working really good for her. Basically, she can do normal things like, walk, run, go to school. She’s fine with everything. It's good medication. We are glad that we’ve have that medication for almost 10 years for her. She's fine now. I mean, she's [still takes] the IV medication, but she's fine.

Steve: Diana, what was some of your earliest memories that something was going wrong with you?

Diana: I remember fainting. I feel like that's one of my earliest memories. I don't remember a lot what happened before when I was really young. I just remember in first grade, I would faint and a lot of stuff like that would happen to me. Well, I always knew what I had, because I had this pump on me, so it was kind of obvious, but as I grew older, I knew what was going on. Basically, if it was really hot, I wouldn't go outside, because that would make me faint. So, I took precautions and that made it better too.

Steve: As a young girl in elementary school or even going through middle school. How did you navigate that, all those years?

Diana: In elementary, I used to have a bigger pump, but obviously now it's developed into a smaller one, so it's much better for me. It doesn't really affect me in any negative way. I see it also in a very positive way, because I'm here so that makes it better. But you shouldn't be worried at all. You're going to be fine. It doesn't matter. If you have the pump that I have if you're worried about people teasing you or bullying you or something, you can't even see it. It's pretty small. I've never had problems like that. I just live my life.

Steve: Tell me a little bit about your experience at Stanford at the Race Against PH, which again is happening November 1st, 2020. I'm assuming you've been to more than a few of these races along the way, correct?

Diana: Yes. I've actually only been to one though. I never really knew about them until like two years ago. That race it's great. Especially if you're the one that has pulmonary hypertension. It's fun to go to and you just see everybody supporting.

Steve: Do you and your family have a race team? Is it just you and your father or do you have other friends and family or community members that have raced along with you in the past?

Diana: Oh yeah, for sure. My mom was with me. She's a great person. She was there with me, my cousins and my father, yes. My father was there too. It was good.

Steve: If I'm not mistaken, you had a phone call just about an hour or so ago with all your doctors and nurses there at Stanford. They awarded you with a special honor this year called the Pediatric Courage Award Winner. Can you tell me a little bit about that call?

Diana: It was awesome. My family, was there [on Zoom]. My dad just told me, “Oh, they're just going to talk about your appointment.” I was like, “Oh, okay.” So, I never saw that coming. I never knew that was going to happen. Then, I had family from everywhere who was there. So, that was great seeing them. I’m really honored and grateful that I received that award. I did not see that coming. Yeah, it was pretty great.

Steve: So can you tell anybody that's listening being a Pediatric Courage Award Winner, what brings you the courage to face each day and to do all that you do and in spite of this disease?

Diana: My family, they're amazing and they keeps me going. I stay positive, which really helps, because there's going to be bad days, but there's going to be great days also. I think you should really focus on that, because you shouldn't really focus on all the negatives. My future too, because right now, sure this is happening. Right? But, look forward to your future too. Just focus on that too and have something to look forward to every day.

Steve: How about you Jamie? What traits do you see in your daughter that define her as a courageous fighter in this disease?

Jamie: We always support her, but she really have good attitude. She's positive. She never worries about this disease. She always thinks in a future. She's a great kid. That's why she got that award. When we go to the hospital and they see that she would like to participate in studies that have all the kids that have the same thing, she always says, yes no problem. She's very good with that, too. She helps out with the new cases coming up, with kids like her, because she feels really good. She's really a strong girl, smart. She likes to participate in everything. She’s positive and has a good attitude.

Steve: This year's race, unfortunately with COVID-19 is turning virtual. There's a flip side to that coin. It's a great event as you've said, Diana, in person having attended before. But this year being virtual, it's opened up to people all across the United States and world, frankly. What do you think you would tell people who didn't have much knowledge of pulmonary hypertension or the work of Stanford or this race, for that matter. Why should people participate virtually in The Race Against PH on November 1st?

Diana: To support. It's fun to do and it's supporting, as well. For the people who have PH, I know it makes me happy to know how many people are there and how many people are like, “Oh, we're with you. We know you're going through a lot of stuff and we're support you.” So, that's very important. What's also really good about the race and how it's virtual, there's people from all over the world that can be there too.

Steve: One thing that's really cool leading up to this race, that's a virtual race, as we said. It technically takes place on November 1st, but it's happening now as we speak. What we've been doing throughout the whole month of October, here, is various contests that have been taking place leading up to this race. This week's contest, is actually a costume contest takes place between October 26th and October 30th. Because the race takes place in November, it also correlates with pulmonary hypertension month, as I mentioned. To help generate that awareness, we want to challenge everyone to a costume contest, where you wear the color purple, because as many of you know, purple is a color that's used to show support for pulmonary hypertension. So, be creative and the more purple people are wearing the better. What we want people to do for this week, is to take six photos or selfies of yourself in your favorite pose in your purple costume. You can even make a sign to show your support for pulmonary hypertension patients or The Race Against PH, here at Stanford. Post it on their website by Friday, October 30th. That website is med.stanford.edu/raceagainstph. What's going to happen is there's going to be two adult winners, two children winners. They're each going to receive a $50 gift card. So, please give yourself time to upload this. The deadline is Friday, October 30th, 3:00 PM Pacific. So, please take part in that we'd love to see your costume. Jamie and Diana, I really thank you guys for sharing some of your story. Congratulations on becoming this year's Pediatric Courage Award Winner, that's amazing!

Diana: Thank you.

Jaime: Thanks a lot.

Steve: Thank you all for listening and we hope to see you on November 1st for The Race Against PH. Thanks so much everybody.

Learn more about pulmonary hypertension trials at www.phaware.global/clinicaltrials. Never miss an episode with the phaware® podcast app. Follow us @phaware on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, YouTube & Linkedin Engage for a cure: www.phaware.global/donate #phaware #ClinicalTrials @PHatStanford

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[letterstochristopher]

Letters to Chris. May 1st. Day 22.

Hey Buddy,

It’s been a tough day, and an even tougher night. Today was my first day back to my “normal life.” It feels so weird. So wrong. I arrived back in Colorado yesterday morning. I wasn’t close to ready to come home. I missed Clay and the pups, but I feel like nothing has gone right since we moved here a year ago. I wanted to stay away. Stay home with our family. It was hard walking back into our apartment. I just don’t have many memories here. We JUST moved in. It doesn’t feel like home…not at all. So the only memory that sticks out is that horrible, long night. So obviously, being back has been rough. Tonight, I felt like I did that first week…where the pain was so unbearable I couldn’t breathe. All I wanted to do was scream. Or die. Anything but feel the way I was feeling. And this morning, it was almost too much to go to work, to talk to people like nothing happened, to be happy because at any workplace you need to leave your shit at the door. How can I act normal when my heart is shattered into a million pieces? One minute I’ll be okay, and the next I feel like I’m drowning under this massive wave that is crashing over me and I keep trying to swim to the surface but a huge part of me wants to give up and drown. I feel so lost. All I want to do is go back home to where we grew up and be with Mom, Dad, Nikea and Bethany. Where our memories are. Where your stuff is. Where your old room is. Where your ashes are. I feel so far away right now and it’s almost unbearable. Sorry, Buddy. I’m just so tired. Talking to people all day has been exhausting when all I wanted to do was hide. But everyone tells me that I need to be around others. That working is good. That getting back into my routine is good. I can’t hide away all the time. 

I’m not ready. I just want to cuddle with your things and sleep.

Dad drove me to Kansas City Saturday to stay with Court and Cory since my flight left so early Sunday morning. I could have taken the train, but I wanted to spend more time with him. Since he works and goes to bed at a decent hour (unlike Mom and me), I didn’t get to see him as much as I would have liked. So I made him be stuck with me in a car for 2.5 hours :) It was so fun. It’s rarely, if ever, just Dad and me. As I’ve told you, I’m not ever going to take our family for granted again. It was funny…I’d been waiting for an awesome thunderstorm the entire time I was home, and of course the day I leave one hits. You should have seen the flooding. It was crazy. Fields looked like lakes. But luckily it never got too bad, or else I would have felt like the world’s worst daughter for asking him to drive me through it. I know he didn’t mind though. Dad’s love language is acts of service. (By the way, one of your close friends gave us a card telling us all the things you talked about in regards to us. I know it meant so much to Dad that you told her how smart he was, and how you wanted to be half the man he is. I wish you could have known that you were a good man, too. You were, Chris. I was proud to call you my brother. And Mom…she started crying when she read how you said she had been such a huge influence in your life. And it was so sweet that you bragged about her garden. That meant so much to her). 

Saying bye to Mom, Dad and Nikea went as well as it could have. Better than expected. I figured I’d be sobbing, or at least Mom would be. I mean, she’d cry when I’d leave when I lived in Kansas City. But everyone did okay. Nikea came home to hang out after work, even though it was just for a half hour. She sat with me while I packed. I think having actual dates when I’m coming back helps tremendously (June and August). And Mom let me take everything I wanted of yours (even though I forgot your PJ pants I’ve been wearing which really upset me). She had felt so protective of your things, like they were being picked over. She knew that wasn’t the case, but you know how she is. She just needed time. Always the protective mother. I understand. That’s how I feel about your ashes. We had discussed sharing them, but I couldn’t deal with the thought of dividing you up. I say “you.” I know it’s not you. It’s funny how we cling to the physical remnants when that’s not who you actually were. Your soul lives on. But anyway…I’m so grateful to Mom. I don’t know what I would have done if I didn’t have anything of yours here. It was hard enough being away from your belongings for a few hours at work. I had so many of your things I had to borrow Mom’s massive suitcase. And when I say massive, I mean MASSIVE. I could fit in there easily. Twice. I wasn’t able to bring everything I wanted due to weight restrictions, but I’ll be going home for your Celebration of Life at the end of June, and will bring them back with me (our birth mom and aunts are coming, as is the rest of the family and any of your friends, too. We haven’t made an official announcement yet, but will soon. It’s just so hard to get things going right now). Your Harry Potter books, your cowboy hat, your dress blues…Maybe some of your antlers. You had so many! Did you shoot all those deer? I know you did one, at least. Perhaps I can Pinterest something to do with your antlers. I know you’d be so annoyed with me if I tried to turn your antlers into a craft project, but sorry, dude, that’s what you get. And I’m trying to figure out what to do with your uniform. Would it be weird if I framed it? I’d love to have it hanging somewhere I can always see it. Maybe in our living room. I also took your ACU backpack and your cap. Oh and your deodorant. May be weird, but since I’ve already told you about how I cuddle with your sweaty shirts, I figure you can’t judge me any more than you already have. As for the rest of your clothes, they are all lying on my side of the bed. I want them close. Maybe months down the line I’ll fold them neatly and store them somewhere that’s easily accessible. And not all of them-some I’m sure I’ll wear to bed every night. It helps me to sleep. What’s neat is I’ve been finding so many photos of you wearing the shirts that I have. I had asked you to show me what you wanted me to take, and all these shirts I picked ended up in photographs. It makes me ache, but it also makes me feel so close to you. Especially the shirts that smell like you. I dread the day when your smell fades. I don’t know what I’ll do then. 

Sometimes, I just don’t think. Like yesterday, I asked Dad if they had offered to give him the clothes you were wearing. Mom had been wondering if you were wearing the “Life is Good” shirt (you know, the ice fishing one she gave you) that night because it wasn’t in your things. Dad said they offered them to him, but recommended incineration because they were soiled. It’s like the couch…I knew you bled. I knew that. Considering everything, how could you not? I’ve seen the blood. So why did it hit me so hard when he said they incinerated your clothing because they were soiled? Shouldn’t that be old news by now? Why does it hit me like a sledgehammer to my chest whenever I hear something like that? Damn you for hurting yourself like that, Chris. Your life may not have been a big deal to you, but you were my everything. Our everything. And now life expects me to pick up the pieces and keep going. Because that is what you’re supposed to do. Keep living. Keep working. Keep growing. 

How?

You did reach out to me Saturday, though. I walked into Courtney’s apartment and Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire was playing on her TV. Since I was just talking to you about that in my last letter, I know that was you saying hi again. Thank you so much. I can’t hold you, talk to you, laugh with you or wrestle you anymore, but I can see you in so many ways. Feel you in so many ways. Moments like that keep me going. Keep them coming, Chris. I’m going to need constant reminders that you’re still here. I’m needy. Get over it.

You would have laughed at me on the plane yesterday. It wasn’t funny at the time, but it does make me laugh now. We hit the worst turbulence I’ve ever experienced. Nervous chatter filled the cabin. The entire midwest was covered in storms, so as we left Kansas City we hit some major bumps. We would drop so far my stomach would jump into my throat. Turbulence normally doesn’t bother me. You know I fly all the time. But I was just so frazzled after the last three weeks, I started crying. It seems like anything bad can happen now. Like if you can die, then anything can go wrong (good outlook to have, right?). The woman next to me asked if I was okay. To which I responded, “My brother just died, now I’m going to die and it’s going to kill my mother.” I’m sure that was the last response she expected. I felt so stupid. Talk about word vomit. But all I could think about was Mom dealing with another child being killed. Luckily, the woman didn’t seem to mind, bless her. She patted my knee and promised we weren’t going to die, and started asking about you. I was honest about how you died. I refuse to hide it. Hiding it means I’m ashamed of you or your decision. No way. Never. Well it turned out her cousin committed suicide two years ago. He was 51. I’m not sure how, but somehow I knew I would sit next to someone who lost a loved one to suicide, too. I hadn’t planned on talking about it, but it’s funny how turbulence + a shitty three weeks can make us talk to complete strangers about the most personal stuff. It makes me cringe to think about it. But I’m grateful she was there to share her experience. We also talked about depression. She had suffered some major depression a few years back, and said she understood how someone could get to that point. I know so many people would have shied away from talking to me. It’s pretty cool how God puts people in our path that help us along the way. 

Luckily, the turbulence calmed down, as did I. At least until I walked into our apartment. But, what can you do? I just feel bad for Clay. He was so excited to have me home, and I became a wreck the second I walked through the door. Of course he misses you, too. He just wants to fix this. You know how guys are. They are fixers. But this can’t be fixed. It can’t be solved. You’re gone, and I’m grieving. It’s just the way it is going to be. 

I’m super fun to be around right now.

By the way, I’m listening to your favorite song. "Your Guardian Angel” by Red Jumpsuit Apparatus. Yesterday, while on your Facebook I came across a status I had somehow missed:

February 25th at 6:42 am.

Commercial on addiction on Pandora then RJA My Guardian Angel plays. Someone is truly looking over me today!! Feeling great today.

So I put on this song. This status brought me so much comfort. You were feeling so positive and encouraged. I wish I would have commented on it. I had stopped getting on Facebook very often (social media overwhelms me), so rarely commented on anyone’s statuses. But I’m so so grateful I saw this. Because now I know you believed you were being looked out for. And now, I have a song I know you loved that I can listen to (and it’s not country, which I know you loved but man…I can’t do it. Unless it’s Brad Paisley or 90′s country). 

You know what I find interesting? Throughout this entire ordeal, I haven’t been angry with God. I’ve been angry with Him in the past for things that have gone wrong. I blamed him when our Uncle Tim died, and when my friend Shanna passed. But I haven’t blamed him for your death. Because I know He brought you eternal peace. He didn’t cause this to happen. Your heartache and addictions did. But He did welcome you home. And while I would give anything to have you here with us, I know that is selfish. How could I ever wish you away from the incredible place you are now? Free from your burdens, your sadness. We may not be fine right now, but you are. More than fine. You are happier than we could ever hope to be. And you know, the therapist Mom and I saw said she was surprised you lived as long as you did. Just because you’d been dealing with those issues for so long. So I need to say thank you, Chris. For holding on as long as you did. While 25 years wasn’t nearly long enough (not even close), I’m so grateful that I got to have you in my life for those 25 years. Twenty five years of memories: of birthdays, Christmases, family dinners, movie nights, laughter, vacations, late night chats…I’ll take it. Having you as a brother was well worth the pain.

You’ll always be my brother. 

By the way, I finally checked my Facebook messages yesterday. I had so many from your friends, reaching out to tell me how much they loved you. How they cannot wrap their mind around what happened, how they miss you, and how they are here for our family in any way, shape or form we need. We are beyond grateful for their words. Knowing we aren’t alone in our grief makes it a little easier of a burden to bear. Some things people have said about you:

“He had the heart of a giant and was built to serve others. I was proud to call him my brother and stand beside him in serving our community.”

“He definitely came into my life for a reason…even if it was for such a short time. I can sense it. He changed me in a good way.”

“Besides his love for his job and his hard work ethic, Chris was one of the kindest souls I had ever met.”

“I’m glad I had the time with him I had. He was a great friend I wish he could see all the people that cared about him who he didn’t know were there. He will forever be missed and the world is missing out on such a great person.”

“You were a great person. A funny smartass who always had a witty comeback. I miss you. I’m mad at you.”

“You were a beautiful soul.”

“I only knew Chris for a short while when he joined the Holts Summit Fire Department as a cadet a while back and his wonderful attitude and great personality made a forever lasting impression.”

“You were such a kind hearted guy. You would have done anything for anyone anytime they needed you. You loved your son immensely and you could see in his eyes he obviously adored you.”

“I thought highly of Chris, from the moment he walked into my office wanting to join the National Guard I could tell he was a bright, charismatic young man who had a promising future. When he told me he was moving, I knew I would miss seeing him around and talking with him about his progression in his military career and life in general. I know for anyone that had the opportunity meet him he had a positive impact on them as a person. He will be greatly missed and my thoughts go out to his friends and loved ones.”

And there are SO many more. People loved you, Buddy. And they will continue to love you. Couldn’t you see it?? I’m going to post on your wall and ask everyone to share a memory. Then I want to make a book of your photos and add all those memories they share there. It’s through all of us that you will keep living. We won’t ever let your memory fade. 

Here comes another wave. 

God, I love you. I miss you. I need it to stop hurting, but it just won’t. I love you. I love you.