A Scapegoat’s Thoughts on Their Narcissistic Father And The Hell He Created

I think everybody feels like their upbringing and family are normal, at least to an extent. I always thought my family was average until recently. As explained in my previous blog, ive severed communication with my father late last year. It was the most relieving thing I’ve done for myself yet.

I began to question this decision during quarantine. I was sick very early on compared to most in my state and being so ill planted the seed of self doubt and questioning my own actions. Had I been too harsh? Am I being an asshole? Am I judging my father solely on political reasons? I couldn’t stop questioning myself and I needed answers, the closure he flat out denied me just before I stopped speaking to him. Where could I possibly turn when the one person I could (and should) directly ask explicitly said they don’t care and won’t have those conversations anymore? I knew my dad was active outside of Facebook, so I did a basic Google search on his name and his usual username and the results destroyed what I’d always thought to be normal or okay. It was the day I discovered my father as a covert narcissist- who he truly is.

There was multiple racist rants and declarations of his racism. Proudly. There was talks about my mother’s side of the family, other women’s looks and how gross they were if they’d gained weight, he’d described young girls in such sexual gross detail that it was uncomfortable for me to read. What hurt the most is seeing how he saw and what he thought of me, my brother, my husband, and mother. Like, he’d always make jabs about my weight and shield it with “it’s only out of concern” only to read how much I disgusted him physically. The worst part of that is he formed his opinion of me as a person based off of my physical appearance. Yeah. My father’s thoughts of me were solely based around my weight and none of them were positive. He said he got diagnosed with autism by accident, failing to mention I had previously opened up with him about being diagnosed in an attempt to connect with him. He was a self proclaimed “family man” (yeah, right) and made casual remarks about slapping his daughters around. His views on my brother are the most alarming and at this point if my brother moved across the world just to feel safe from him, I wouldn’t blame him. Pages upon pages and almost 10 years of content that showed me exactly what he thought and who he was.

Finding all of this information on that forum shattered my world and outlook on my upbringing, him, and our relationship. I began to question everything with him because the things he wrote in depth thoughts that shed light on the life long narrative he painted for us but we could never speak about. To my own surprise, I didn’t cry when I was reading all of it. For 2 days after finding this out, I wanted to cry but couldn’t. Im pretty sure I was in some sort of shock or something. I wasn’t able to cry until my mother reached out to me out of concern over my vague Facebook posts and she could tell something was wrong. It broke my heart to have to be the one to find this and show her. I’ve always felt guilty for thinking and believing such a bad kid and never able to do anything right or feeling like I always fall short and this was just one more check more in the “reasons you’re a fuck up” list. For so long I chased after my father’s approval and he lead me around like an idiot on a fishing line for over 30 years. I was the scapegoat in his world. I listened because of how much was on the line if I didn’t. I obeyed because I was convinced that I was such a fuck up that it’d be a miracle if I could just not be a disappointment in some aspect for once in my life. This is the mindset I was conditioned to since I was a child.

He convinced me when I had my son at 19 that I was going to be a horrible mom and “couldn’t do it”. He would stand over me and scream for not being able to produce enough milk to feed my own child and what a failure I was and “it was a waste to have big boobs if they can’t even do what nature intended”. He screamed at me when the doctor said my son had an umbilical hernia when he was a newborn. He told me I damaged my child by riding in the car with him and how could I and when was I “gonna listen to him and not fuck the baby up any worse”. After leaving an abusive relationship with the child’s father just 2 months prior (which I also was yelled at for. It was my fault the relationship didn’t work. I failed the child by giving up. Etc.) By the time my son was 4 months old and dealing with all of this, an incident happened where I was forced to leave his house. We’d just moved out of state and his family was directed not to let me stay with them so he left me with the option of going back 300+ miles to the state we moved from or good luck. Luckily, I had reconnected with my online boyfriend after losing touch just before moving the year before and he lived much closer and offered to let me stay since it was the closest option I had to my baby. I attempted to take my son but that’s when my father escalated to threats. Hed say “over my dead body will this baby leave here. You only have a 2 seat truck not safe for a baby and I’ll report your vehicle to the police if you put him if you take him. If that doesn’t work, I’ll call CPS and do welfare checks everyday. Your mental health isn’t well and I’ll tell them your doctor and how unfit you are.” It just continued to get worse and at such a young age, I knew I wasn’t strong enough at that point. I’d had 2 men abuse me in 6 months, a traumatic c section, and multiple sexual assault incidents just within the year before that. I knew I needed to seriously work on myself and I couldn’t do that with a baby so I talked to my mom and sobbing I told her I was going to focus on healing and she offered to care for my son for this process to happen so that I can grow not only for my son but for myself. It was a defeat I still have a difficult time accepting especially knowing what I know now but I wouldn’t be where I am today if I hadn’t. I wouldn’t be strong enough to face this if I hadn’t taken the time to heal. All of this also leads to a huge factor on what I could lose in this process and what is at stake. I will still have to take responsibility for my choices and I only hope my son can understand and maybe even forgive me someday. He seems to understand at the moment but I know as he gets older the conversations will get more in-depth and he may even be mad at me for some time but I will be there to do what I can to help him during his own healing process.

Since telling my mom, I’ve waited in anxiety. He is going to be mad. He is going to retaliate and there’s been too many times he’s been mad enough to have cold look in his eyes, almost like a statue, and threatened my life for me not to worry about that. He’d turn around after it’d scare me and I’d cry and say “oh my God, you’re so ridiculous. I was only joking”. I despise my father now. Everything he ever convinced me that was good about him or redeemable enough to overlook the horrible things weve lived through was thrown out the window. I began to see how long and intense this has gone on. I remember who my mother was. She certainly didn’t take any shit and now she’s so exhausted from catering to his emotional needs that I do not recognize who he’s emotionally molded her into and this adds to the fuel. He took an amazing soul, a fiery spirit, and broke her down and changed her just so he could “tolerate her”. I love her and hope she has the strength to heal but I do not expect this outcome as he is in control of so much that it’s hard to step away or stand up. I’ve been the bad child so I have no problem sacrificing myself if it means the rest of my family can have a chance to escape.

I don’t know what happens next, so I’m focusing on my own inner peace and healing from all of this. I cannot prepare for how he will respond and it could come 6 months from now so I can only be at peace knowing the truth. I regretted looking him up at first but now I’m glad I did because whether or not anybody else escapes his messed up reality, I was able to and now I can heal, with the truth, reality, and self confidence in tow. I feel like finding ways to defend myself against being manipulated will help me also. Please remember that you have worth. You are more than your blood or upbringing and you can be and do better. Do not cling to what could be or even any humanizing qualities with a narcissist because thats what they want and will use that to continue to make you question yourself so they can manipulate you. I read those posts my dad wrote that I found and said “THIS is my dad. These are his unfiltered thoughts to strangers online. This is what he really thinks” and I have to always remember that. Anything they say otherwise is bullshit either because it’s out of obligation, keeping you in their reality, or making you the issue to deflect their own. You deserve better and you have way more value then they’ve convinced you that you do.

Trumpism- The Political Virus

I see so much about politics these days, especially on social media. Most of it is hate because people can say what they want because a screen  is removing the emotional connection that we feel when we are conversing with people face to face. I was raised in a conservative house but those that know me today know that if they had just met me, they would’ve never guessed. I talk about my father as if he has passed away, unintentionally, but the reality is, due to trumpism he has. 

I was raised with 2 other siblings who had more needs than I did. I was fairly independent and stuck to myself. This environment enabled me to become a well played liar. I could hide, destroy, cover up enough evidence that eventually I got away with a lot to avoid punishment afterwards. This went on into my mid teens when my dad became more involved and once he realized the level of my lying, he had to act firmly to help me recover. It was long stressful arguments. Him questioning me and it getting to the point where it caused a drive between my parents. He then would question me, let me give an answer, and then investigate himself. No matter how slick I thought I was he EVENTUALLY always found out. Always. Time and Time again he would catch me in lies that I normally would’ve gotten away with. He could’ve ignored it and it would’ve been easier, absolutely.. but it wasn’t in my best interest. He also handled how he dealt with me as he also understood in the same breath that I was a product of my environment and punishments changed to lectures. I was addicted to lying and coping skills to avoid trouble and instead of being spanked or grounded he’d give me 3+ hour lectures about the importance. I felt like someone was treating me like an actual human being and like someone saw that I WAS smart enough to grasp the concepts and needed a new way to be taught the lesson… and it eventually worked. 

It was hard not to lie, especially as I was early in recovering from my lying and people had a hard time believing me even when I was honest. After a few years of it and appreciating the relief of brutal honesty and not having to remember all the pieces to try and cover the lies, I went through some horrible things by a man and I was not believed and didn’t even feel like I could defend myself on the injustice because of my past.. I had been a liar and I didn’t blame them for not trusting me and it was the final nail in my coffin for lying.

Today, the man I once respected and admired for being the stubborn force behind my recovery is gone while he physically remains here. This man is an admirer of Trump, watching/attending rallies level. Anything that comes out against trump is a “political hit job” to my dad now and anything can be easily dismissed and disputed by that and that alone. If no other defense works then he has the comfort of always falling back on a defense. How can he see my defenses and cover ups but not even take a glance at anything else towards trump or any conservative politician under the same magnifying glass he does for Democrats? Is it just about winning at this point? 

To be clear, I believe my dad is still in there. However, I believe that he has been persuaded to a mindset of living in such fear and feeling like he, personally, is being attacked that it has engulfed him to be who he is now. I feel guilty for not having the patience that my dad did for me but as of right now, I am alone. Though there are those around him that disagree with him… they, for their own reasons, cannot speak up and out to him. He’s surrounded himself by like-minded people on Facebook and other parts of the internet and I fear what is to come. A hyped emotional human mind living in fear is a scary thing and can quickly tiptoe their way towards being Christian versions of the extremists from around the world they claim they’re afraid of before they realize what they’ve become.

I was in disbelief when a doctor told me I had shot up to almost 400lbs. I told them their scale was broken and tried to cling to that being a possibility before accepting that I neglected my thyroid and health and it’s taken me 5+ years to reverse the damage and still going.  You’d think with buying bigger clothes that I would have noticed gaining almost 200 lbs but it happened so invisibly to me that I couldn’t see it and I think some of it was I didn’t want to. I laugh about it now but I truly was in disbelief and the things I came up with in an attempt to convince myself I wasn’t almost 400 lbs, like dispute what the scale said, was ridiculous especially to everyone but me. I even remember going on Facebook and asking what the chances were a scale could be off. The entire experience opened my eyes to show how quickly I could fall into a similar cycle in other aspects of my life, including politics, and having been working and figuring out how to combat this. 

The last part of this is acceptance. I’ve had to accept that my dad does not have the same experiences as I do and is probably flying just as blind in life as the rest of us. He may not have the tools or experience to look at himself or life the way I do and I cannot fault him for that. We do not speak these days but it’s due to many factors way beyond politics and I’m hoping someday we can figure out how to communicate. I had to accept my weight before I could begin to change it and I also had to accept that someday I could gain it all back again BUT I am confident that I have enough experience now that I can and will recognize it before I spiral that bad again or at least be willing to hear what’s being said by those around me who are important enough that I’ll value what they have to say and help me through it, even if I can’t see it in that moment. Just like my food addiction, trumpism can be just as addictive and appealing to some and it is important that, if things that are factual and can’t be disputed, we face them and have the balls to say it’s wrong even if it’s against the people we believe in and support. 

Why Social Media is Garbage

I have so much to say and obviously the effort I’m going put in this will be more appreciated in at least the fact you took the effort to actually read this. I’m sure my RSD isn’t helping right now but I’m hoping writing out my feelings will help instead of lashing out my hurt and pain. I’ve asked for over a year if any of my friends have an issue with me and it’s always followed by “no I just don’t see your posts”.

One of my biggest issues with social media is how FAKE everyone is and we all fall into a loop of sharing our best moments. Christmas was a perfect example. People who have bickered for years and talked shit about each other are posting smiling faces with the same exact family they spent the other 364 days bitching about. It makes me physically ill at this point to force myself into these situations so now, I don’t. I understand the difference between being fake and being civil. I can be civil to someone while at the same time having proper boundaries to guard myself from them.

Anyways, here’s exhibit A

I posted my previous blog on my Facebook page. 9 people reacted to it, people who tell me they’re my friend. People I’m relatively close to even if on an online relationship (I consider them friends or even family but never met them in person).

There’s the insight from today (3 days later). 2 people from the UK read my last blog. None of the 9 people who liked my post on facebook actually live in the UK.

Now, my issue is NOT that they didn’t read it. It’s the fact that they even loved it and reacted to my post as if they read it. That’s my problem. It is fake. Don’t blow sunshine up my skirt. I surround myself with people I admire, respect,a and trust to help me continue to grow into a better version of myself everyday. I am striving for personal growth and I cannot do so when people choose to blow sunshine up my skirt or inflate my ego, even if it’s out of being polite and I don’t know what I’ve done to give anybody the impression I would expect anything less or if that’s just what social media has done to us.

We Met In An AOL chatroom in 2003

I’m gifting y’all with 2 blogs to read since the holidays are here and everyone has some free time to read. I’m going to tell you all about how I met my husband and how our relationship beat the ridiculous amount of odds stacked against us at the time. We met in an aol chatroom…

You read that right. I met my husband in early 2002 in an AOL chatroom. It was with a few online friends at the time and their online friends so there was a chunk of us there. I remember someone saying “ohhh you’re cute!” To my now husband. “No I’m not” and my curiosity spiked. I asked if he’d send me a pic and lemme judge, so he sent me a private PM and email. He was the most attractive human being I’d ever laid eyes on. He had brown curly hair just past his eyes, a flannel, and a Nirvana shirt. He had hazel eyes that lit up beautifully in the sun in the pic and his smile was so attractive. how could this person think they were unattractive in anyway?? At the time, web cams weren’t a huge thing and most people didn’t have digital cameras due to expense, so I had no pictures. We hit it off instantly talking about music and other interests at the time and talked extensively about our home lives which lead us to talk every day. My good friend Megan heard about some of our exchanges over the last few days and used her dad’s digital camera to take some pics of me to send. Apparently his feelings towards me were mutual despite my own self esteem issues. We both were in a relationship at the time so we just talked and continued to be friends. Scott’s girlfriend broke up with him after a few months claiming she could do better and I got dumped before a dance for no other reason other than “it’s not you, it’s me”.. my first heartbreak. It sucked and at the time had no idea how Scott fully and truly felt. After hopping on AOL to chat with him after school as I always did, I told him what had happened. He was shocked and couldn’t understand how and why someone would be so cruel. He waited until I was done mourning and opened up about he really felt. What struck me the most was that he never ever stated how he felt, even in my weakest moment freshly single. He respected me enough to give me time to process and grieve before “throwing how he felt” at me and even at 14, I knew this was special.

We lived about 700 miles apart and neither of us were old enough to drive yet we felt about each other as if we saw each other every day. I knew him and he knew me more than some of our closest friends and family. It was almost like we were living 2 separate lives at times. After a couple years we upgraded to being able to call each other (when long distance came with more home phone line plans rather than charging per minute). I remember being SO nervous when I first called him because I had whooping cough for 5 months at that point and had reached to where the coughing fits would last over 2 minutes until I coughed or vomited up blood. To a teenager trying to impress someone they love was hard enough, having something so embarrassing was not a help. However, when the coughing jag started, he patiently waited and when I was done not only asked if I was okay but then started asking me to grab stuff in the kitchen and helped me make something to soothe my throat. I remember being shocked he wasnt disgusted and horrified by the whole thing and thinking “damn, he must really like me to not even bat an eye at that nastiness”. This turned into chatting online and talking every day on the phone.

Our relationship had progressed so much that by the time I was a junior in high school I had to maintain a grade of a C or above in all classes and I’d have my own phone line. Doing this allowed us to talk later at night and before school as well. Our friends knew of each other but some doubted the others legitimacy and existence at points too. I’d 3 way phone call some of my close friends with him to prove he was legit even so that I had backup if anybody doubted. I remember my cousin being a major doubter and showing her his pic and saying “I don’t care. I’m going to marry this man some day”. I even wrote about him in my senior section of the yearbook my senior year.

While our relationship was beyond abnormal, I’d be lying if I said it was perfect. Like every other relationship, we had ups and downs. Due to the distance and rarity of our relationship, we still had doubts we’d ever see each other or it’d truly go anywhere even as it continued to grow and progress. I think there were points where we just assumed life would happen and we’d drift apart because it was “just” an online relationship. This lead to unfaithfulness on both ends at various points earlier in our relationship and it was something we still had to tackle and work through just like anybody else.

As soon as I got my license, I came to visit him. My family had moved and we were only 300 miles away now so the journey was much more possible. I remember feeling like it was a dream come true and reflecting back and remembering all the times I thought I’d never get the chance to ever see him face to face. I visited for a week around Christmas time and it was as if we were old friends seeing each other again after many years. We knew each other on such a personal level that the shyness of getting to know each other physically was a when other experience neither of us were expecting.

During a time of separation, I’d gotten pregnant shortly after my family had moved states. We lost contact during my move and phones/internet getting setup and his number changing due to a move as well and I was already pregnant before we’d found each other and he invited me to live with him. It was a devasting blow and pressure from family left me feeling like I had to try and work things work with the father. They didn’t work out and once again I was left heartbroken and alone with a baby but Scott was there when I needed someone and even called to check on me and my son when I had him in the hospital. By then he had been in the process of moving on and was interested in another girl who didn’t want to give him the time of day but I also waited until he was ready to give up pursuing her before I talked to him about moving our relationship up another level. We’d spent 7 years at that point talking online and on the phone that moving together was an easy option. He spent his tax return coming to see me and my son and meeting my family. A sudden turn of events landed me homeless before we could fully discuss moving in but with 0 hesitation my husband opened the offer up so I didn’t have to go back to my home state.

We’ve lived together since. We spent another 4 years of living together and working on our relationship and ourselves before getting engaged and married and even put our wedding off a year to make sure our relationship kinks were worked out. I’ve lived with him for over 10 years now and it’s weird being away from him when visiting family and stuff. We had to be honest with each other and be willing to put how we felt on the table, no matter what. My husband didn’t want to even mention putting the wedding off a year, he was afraid he’d come off as if he didn’t want to marry me at all but he was brave and honest enough to state his concerns and we mutually came to that decision. I fall more in love with him every single day and every day I can’t imagine how it’s possible to love him any more than I already do.

I really feel like everyone who told us we weren’t going to work out wasn’t wrong. People who lived near each other couldn’t seem to work through a relationship, how could anybody especially teenagers navigate a relationship with limited technology and resources? Realistically we should not be where we are today but our love for each other has lead us both to grow and we’ve grown together. We aren’t even the same people we were when we moved in together but the love is stronger. There’s been a lot of forgiveness, patience, and understanding. We’ve both even kept in mind how different our upbringings were and how those experiences formed us to who we are.

We’re now in our 30’s. Technology has changed so much especially since we met. These days it’s fishy if someone can’t video chat with you but in the early/mid 2000s we were just 2 crazy kids with digital cameras head over heels in love. Any problem we’ve faced we have faced and solved together and isn’t that what any relationship, no matter how it starts, is supposed to be? I don’t know what the future holds but I do know we will get through it together and come out of the other side stronger than before.

The (Rise And) Fall of a Doormat

I feel like I’ve always been fairly hyper aware of those around me. Just off of saying a couple of words I could tell before finishing my sentence whether to change what I was going to say to something more favorable. I would even play dumb despite knowing an answer even at an extent so that the one who came to me with their info or fact didn’t feel dumb or like they weren’t offering me something valuable knowledge wise. I can’t think of a time where I existed and put myself and/or my needs before someone else or theirs. (I probably have but I cannot recall it)

I know some of the contribution was my siblings. There was much emphasis on how “normal” my parents saw my vs my siblings and their needs always came before mine. It was easier for my mom to get me to give my sister a toy to stop her from throwing a fit than it was to put effort in teaching her patience in that moment. My mom was lead to believe she had to develop more to understand those concepts so those life lessons were thrown on to me despite being younger. (as I’ve always said but feel like I need to say, I’ve grown past my experiences and I’m not angry that it happened, my siblings, or even my parents. They made mistakes but I genuinely believe they thought they were doing the best they could in most aspects but knowing that doesn’t also nullify my right to speak about my experiences in hopes it could make a situation better for someone else). Even my schooling suffered from the various appointments and procedures my siblings have had (it was already suffering though, as mentioned in my education blog). I remember struggling to make and keep friends as a kid and I remember some of the excuses I received then I was “too pretty, too kind, too smart” but these weren’t sound reasons for me as a child. I even got thrown into karate in 5th grade cuz the bullying was so intense for so long without standing up for myself at all. It took til the last day of 5th grade to stand up for myself and the beginning of me no longer being a doormat.

Standing up for myself was just a stepping stone though and once I navigated having people from physically attacking me, I began an almost 20 year journey into emotionally standing up for myself and that has been quite a chore. The way I grew up in my house was parents were in charge, dad works and pays the bills so anything he says, fair or not, goes. There was no time for explaining sides and most explanations were just “excuses”. Being outspoken makes you a trouble maker, a bitch, and rude in my family so falling in line is essential to being accepted and loved (and what I thought was respect). Emotions mean nothing and any reactions based off of emotion are frowned upon and punished and one of the things that lead me into believing crying was weak until I learned that it was a normal human emotional response and nothing to be ashamed of. Even when my son’s biological grandfather was sexually harassing me (and attempting assault), I was forced to apologize to HIM by my father who I called for help and ended up forcing him to move out my home.

Ever since I moved out my parents house a second time (moved out at 20 the 2nd time), I’ve not asked them for anything outside of sending any mail I get there down this way and I’d paid for it. I was the only relative who has and will pay full price on auto repair without asking for a discount. I’ve handled everything on my own and now that I’m in my 30s, I’ve realized a lot. Things like asking me who I voted for and being pissed off when it’s not their candidate, is not respect. (I was over 25 at that point too). Only getting involved in disagreements if my siblings have an issue with me, is not respect. Preaching to me about making sure not to bad mouth my son’s father in front of my son but turning around and talking shit to my son about me is not respect.

For so long there was always a reason for something. “You’re choosing to feel ___ way cuz you took what I meant differently” or “that’s how you interpreted it” or “okay you can be mad but saying something about it is an issue” and constantly being accused of “going to beat someone up” were all used to belittle me and take away the power I had over myself. It’s taken me so long to not only understand but appreciate myself and these emotions. It’s always healthy to make sure you’re expressing yourself in a healthy manner. It is beyond harmful to feel shame for feeling these emotions and it is unproductive and unhealthy to not love yourself enough to let you express and process these emotions. It’s imprisoning and you constantly feel shame and guilt for expressing anything even too much “joy” because you don’t want that joy to make someone else feel bad.

It is okay to want to shield your loved ones from every bad thing you wish you could avoid for them but it is not okay to do it at your expense… Plus, shielding them from too much keeps them from experiences (even the bad) that are sometimes necessary for us to grow. So please, if you are hard on yourself especially emotionally, stop. You’re not going to stop overnight and it takes a lot of work, mistakes, and forgiveness (mostly to yourself). In this journey, I have expressed myself poorly and probably still do at times… But nobody is perfect and as long as I can recognize that and grow from the experience, those that will love me and forgive me too. Being more firm in myself and my beliefs has lead to losing some relationships in my life, some I spent so long do everything I could to avoid ever losing them. I was nice to people who didn’t deserve it in hopes they’d change or id be liked and let me tell you first hand, it won’t work. Anybody who’s got anything negative to say no matter how hard you try to say the right thing are ALWAYS going to have something negative to say so you might as well not emotionally pummel yourself for them. You don’t have to be an asshole either, there’s obviously positive and negative ways to stand up for yourself… But trust and know yourself to keep your intentions in mind and keep your love for the person your speaking to in your heart… Even if you’re mad at them. If they are upset, don’t hesitate to reassure them that you love them and you want to work this out but you need to feel like you’ve been validated and respected too.

I’m still working on being assertive. I’ve spent so much energy on being a peacemaker that I’ve noticed it’s been challenging with my tone when I’m saying something. There’s a lot of frustrations and when I’ve said something 100+ times, it makes it even more so that by the 101st time I’m blunt and more firm than I normally would be. It’s still not wrong but it’s not how I want to handle my loved ones especially those that haven’t done me wrong. My goal is always to work shit out in a healthy and respectful way to involved parties but I’ve also learned what peace is if I don’t… And it’s still new but it’s so freeing.

My Public Education Experience

The title says at all as I’m a good example of why the United States public education system is a joke. Being autistic and ADHD in the 90s and being undiagnosed was such a weird time mainly because accurate information wasn’t out there and then there was the “Ritalin epidemic” which probably only hindered my opportunities at being diagnosed. I had so much to navigate and little to no support… How did I make it to 31 safely and seemingly turned out okay? How did Autistics before me and/or less privelaged than I manage? It’s a lot to think and worry about especially when you consider things aren’t much better today.

The first day of school. I remember watching kids shows and seeing commercials where kids looked excited to go to school and was excited to go. I had been in preschool but it wasn’t even for 1/2 a day and I was home, which was the schedule I expected and seemed okay with but boy was I wrong. We tackled the letter “A” of the alphebet people the FIRST DAY. I can remember trying to join in on playtime with others like playing house but they didn’t like me playing the dad, tried playing with Dino’s and trains with the boys but my calling out types of dinosaurs lead me to be asked to leave that group too. By the end of the day, I was at my desk drawing by myself and little did I know then that this establishment of where I was going to be socially in school.

A couple years in only got worse. I was sick a lot from ear infections and sinus stuff which sucked but got me out of school. I hated school already by this point and embraced feeling shitty to go home and get away from the hell that was school. Different kids and different teachers never helped which only told me the problem was me. I didn’t do well in school. I can remember being requested to be held back in first grade and My parents refused for reasons I can’t remember. Teachers would say things like “she draws on her work too much. It’s messy. That’s why her grade got knocked down”, “all she wants to do is daydream. She never listens to anything I have to say!”, “She goes to the beat of her own drum.”….. I hated that one. Hated. I didn’t want to go to the beat of a different drum. I wanted my drum beat to not make me so different for adults and other kids to say things. By 2nd grade, I was sitting against the wall just drawing while everybody else played. I had tried to play many times but it resulted in being made fun of until I cried (calling me fat, stupid, and scary) and pushed off of playground equipment until it knocked the wind out of me. After enough times, I’d gotten the message that I was different and not welcome and to avoid that, I did my drawings against the wall during recess. I was always drained and tired and wanted to go home but couldn’t.

I got into comics a little bit. There were a couple of other kids against the wall as well for either in trouble or were just reading. I remember being shown comics like spawn, spiderman, and X-Men. I REALLY gravitated to the X-Men and felt like I looked like mystique to everyone else but when I looked in the mirror I looked normal. How they fought to be included and ACCEPTED and it really set the groundwork for me accepting my undiagnosed young autistic self. Wolverine was one of my favorites and loved the name Logan. Nightcrawler was my all time favorite.

I made my first group of real friends in 5th grade. People that I didn’t have to force myself to play dolls with or be directed by other kids in play. We just genuinely hung out and had similar interests. “This is what friendship should be” I told myself after not having that experience before. Some kids were nice to me in my younger years but I think ditched me to keep their place in kid elementary society. I don’t blame them either. They were just kids like I was and there were times I did the same thing until I figured all of that out.

While socially I was doing better than I had at that point, my grades were worse. I was officially not passing instead of just getting D+’s and at best was getting a D-. I had dragged on through the system for 4 years. My mom got me a tutor and I’d spend HOURS after school doing homework to try and catch up and pass. It was hell for everyone involved but especially me and my mom. It got to a point where she’d end up doing 90% of the assignment because it dragged on and I was already drained from school and didn’t have it in me to continue after school to do more schoolwork. I ended up barely passing that year. A D-. I should’ve been held back but I wasn’t. This same year, I had the worst bully of them all and started having black out spells (ended up being absence seizures but didn’t know until adulthood either). This bully would use my seizures as an excuse to volunteer to be my bathroom partner Incase I had a seizure in the bathroom. She’d copy my work which contributed to my bad grades (either we got caught cheating and both got in trouble, I’d purposely give wrong answers cuz she was cheating, or eventually gave up and didn’t care to do the work because of the above scenarios). When we dissected things she would take the knife and cut my legs under the table with it. My mom was constantly in the office bickering with them about doing something about this girl because she was so brutal to me. Nothing was done by the school system and on the last day of school she was messing with me at lunch and I told the lunch lady and we both got sent to the office… Which was a huge mistake but this time, it wasn’t in her favor. She grabbed the big gymnasium door as I was walking through and pulled it against and on me, squeezing me between the door and the frame. I was DONE. After a whole year of no one protecting me or helping me, instincts kicked in and I leaped onto that girl and started hammer fisting and punching her face. The next thing I remember is being dragged into the office by 3 teachers treating me like a wild animal along the way and scolding me.. until we got to the office with my mom who just so happened to be talking to the principal about this girl AGAIN.. saw me and saw her face and said to the principal “this is what happens when you ignore a child being bullied for an entire school year. And if my child gets in any trouble for this after everything she’s been through this year, we can have at it in court.” And I never heard a word about that scenario or that girl the next year in Jr high or ever again

I don’t remember much about my first year of 6th grade outside of one of my oldest friends. We met because I was drawing a Pikachu in math class. I had caught mono really early on in the year and was really sick that whole school year. Even after 6 months I could only do half days and I think with school being draining for me as it already was while still recovering from mono, I drained super easily. I had missed so much school they weren’t even taking doctors notes. Luckily, my parents were moving and we were getting out of the city and into the country. It was the perfect opportunity to be held back and I’m so glad my parents finally agreed to do it. I shouldn’t have been excited it for it but it had been so long of me falling further and further behind, I knew I needed it.

The next year of 6th grade repeated was the best school year yet at that point in my life. I made sure to be more outgoing in this school system so hopefully kids wouldn’t hate me so much. I also started actually passing classes and getting a couple A’s! Still got some D’s but it was mainly B’s and C’s which REALLY boosted my confidence after having D’s for so long. Due to missing so much school the year prior and moving to a new district, I never learned cursive as they had learned cursive already in 5th grade. Luckily, I’ve never ever used or needed cursive so I’m so glad I didn’t needlessly learn that.

The rest of Junior high was fine. I loved art and my art teacher was probably the best teacher I’ve ever had in my life. Our last year of Jr high, a student had committed suicide and it is an understatement to say it affected the entire school. Unfortunately, due to my home life and being taught emotions are bad, I didn’t handle this properly. I shut down and couldn’t even verbalize half the time. I couldn’t cry despite wanting to. I had my mom was there for me but when my dad calls my friend who’s just passed away a “pussy”, I wasn’t allowed to express my grief at home either and it started to swallow me. I’d always been depressed in my life but this was probably the second biggest pit of my life. I began to bang my head on lockers just to drown out as much as I could. I barely spoke to anybody. My art and science teachers were the ones who not only recognized something was wrong but they gave me safe spaces out of class when I needed them during the mourning process and called my mom on days where I shouldn’t have even been sent to school and needed to go home. My art teacher really encouraged my art when up until that point, I’d just been drawing just to draw. I didn’t have any confidence in anything I was doing or any reason to do it other than I enjoyed it but getting A’s in her class meant a lot to me and my teacher taught me the value of slowing down “just a little bit” and giving my art that little extra love and care it deserves instead of rushing something and completing the assignment the first run through. Id never visually seen patience pay off until this point and it really helped me even more in school in general… I didn’t have to rush on an assignment to get it done by the Bell in art and it was sooooooooooo nice.

Now, in high school, I academically did fine. However, the principal and the assistant principal failed me multiple times and we’re gonna get into that. I’m also going to say that I failed art in 9th grade and it killed my desire for art. I’m sorry but I thought I’d get that out of the way first before we get into the real bad stuff. Also, TRIGGER WARNING FOR SEXUAL ASSAULT. I was heavily failed by the heads of my high school on multiple occasions. The first time was on school grounds in 9th grade. My mom got the cops involved for “justice”. I just wanted to be left alone. When it went to court, all I asked for and ever asked for was the boy to get counseling. My mom tried to go to the school about it first to which they told her that “he’s an A-B, student and she’s more of a C-D student” and they weren’t going to do anything plus told the cops that when they interviewed the heads of the school. The incident hit a forum for our county at the time where adults and other students bashed me online. They didn’t even know my side… It was a million reasons why it was my fault and I was a piece of garbage for doing anything about it. I lost all my my friends over it. I was ashamed and because of everything that had transpired with the whole online forum caused me to where I couldn’t come out when someone who claimed to be my friend tried to do more than just assault me 3 years later after inviting me at his house to play video games with him and a bunch of our friends (he lied there were no friends there). I didn’t feel like I could tell anybody and not when it happened 3 days before I was moving to another state and not when this 6’3 football playing freshman used me just turning 18 my senior year (cuz I was held back and such) to silence me. It was a horrible situation to be left in and no child should have to feel like they can’t tell their parents or ANY adult at school in fear of what would happen especially after something like that.

I was also expelled for posting song lyrics on my Myspace page. I got called to the office during lunch like a month before the last day of school my junior year. My parents were already there in the office and as I sat down, the principal and assistant principal smuggly whipped out a 3 page printout of my Myspace page like they’d REALLY caught me being as bad as they thought. They had highlighted random things from my myspace printout and pointed to each one and was told that because of these, I was a threat to the school and was to leave and not come back the rest of the year. What did they highlight? Various lyrics to various metal songs from bands I listened to. I’m not even joking. These clowns even dragged the city police down and the police said there was no threat AND THE PRINCIPAL STILL TOLD ME TO LEAVE THE SCHOOL. My father was furious but because he was so disengaged with aspects of our lives for so long that he didn’t realize that’s how the school systems were and had been for me this whole time. I wasn’t even going to fight them anymore. Had I lied about a few dumb things here and there like students who get caught doing stupid dumb teenage things do? Yes. Id never deny that but they treated me like an animal. A girl bullied my friend and they did nothing so I tried to talk to the girl who decided to punch me in the face instead and I retaliate and who’s in trouble? Me. Guy slings girls books across the hall daily but my friend stands up to them bullying people and this guy and his sack of potato friends circle my 1 friend and I GRAB THIS GUYS SHIRT TO TELL HIM TO LEAVE PEOPLE ALONE and who gets in school suspension? Me. I didn’t look for fights or start them but I didn’t like seeing others getting bullied or ganged up on either and would absolutely finish them. They even called me a liar for saying I try not to judge people based on how they look based on how I’d been treated. I was called a liar daily when I had returned for 2 months my senior year during lunch for not moving. We were supposed to move over the summer and the house didn’t sell so we were stuck for a couple months longer. Every single day it was “I thought you were moving?”, “You’re not really moving”, “stop saying you’re moving”, etc until in October when everything was ready for us to move.

Two months into my senior year we moved to the south. My new school in the state we moved to couldn’t figure out which classes I did or didn’t have credits for so they moved me all the way back to a freshman. Yeah. You read that right. I was 2 months in my senior year and reduced to a freshman because they couldn’t figure out how to disperse the credits I earned from my old school into their system. I tried by doing catch-up classes but I had surgery that December that same year which left me 2 months out of school and held back again. I had enough at that point, was old enough to drop out myself, signed myself out of school, and immediately went and started GED classes that same day. I went to those for a month and took my test, graduating my senior year with a GED and scoring within the top 10% of graduating seniors that year. Many people may frown upon a GED but I’m so incredibly proud of mine.

So, that’s my long journey of 13 years in public school. I think getting older and just maturing helped a lot and I was able to focus easier once I realized I learned different ways and how to learn to remember things that worked for me. I had a great group of outcast friends in high school that really helped me out and I came out of my dark depressive pit at around the middle of 10th grade. I couldn’t have asked for a better group of kids to spend my high school years with! Overall, I think if more teachers were equipped to teach kids who learned in different ways and recognized the worth of every student and shows them what they’re capable of matter how disinterested they seem… We’d be seeing a decline in the dropout rate and we would see kids passionate and excited about school again.

Talking About My Gender

I’ve never ever really opened up about this aspect. It’s an idea that was shunned in my home growing up to an extent. It’s confusing but I’m going to try. I am non-binary. My father has conservative views on gender identity. I have always been and felt different… Since I can remember (which is before my youngest sibling was born). The best way I can explain what I’m like… I see myself as neither male or female. I can be masculine or feminine but I don’t think intentionally or directly which one I want to be. I don’t even remember I having my lady parts unless they’re affecting me, weird to hear for some.. right? Let’s start diving.

At a VERY young age I PROTESTED wearing dresses. I fought until I got to an age where my mom couldn’t fight me to get dressed anymore so she FINALLY gave up slowly but surely. It took almost all my life for my mom to fully let go of the little girl she expected to have and my father and I have NEVER discussed this. I wanted short hair since I can remember too but I was NOT allowed to cut my hair above the shoulders even well past 18 but because I lived at home they called the shots. I distinctly remember it being the early 90s and riding by our local ice cream store/putt putt golf place down the street from ours and I saw 3 people wearing all black, piercings, tattoos, mohawks, etc and fell in love. I’ve been obsessed with the style since. In elementary school I begged my mom relentlessly for years to change my name. I didn’t want a last or middle name just one singular name. I gave up when “we’ll discuss it when you’re older” became “when you’re an adult you can do as you please”. It felt disappointing and as if my parents would only accept me if I was the me they thought I was/should be.

As I got older the urge got stronger. I was clearly into way more boys stuff than girls. I remember having a sleep over with my cousin and opening up to her about not “feeling like a girl” but when asked “do you feel like a boy?” I had no answer. I didn’t feel like either. I felt like a soul and this body is just a “mechanical” shell for that soul but how was preteen me able to explain this? I couldn’t. my cousin held her hand up and asked me to do the same and said “see? Your hand hangs like mine and it’s very feminine.” Well, how could I argue that? I didn’t know how or understand. I had no one to turn to to talk about these things and anytime I tried, scenarios like this happened constantly… To discredit me and to reassure themselves that their perception of me isn’t tainted. It was lonely.

Teenage years got better. The first person I really looked up to as a teen for my gender identity was P!nk. She had short hair and didn’t take crap. She wasn’t Britney Spears or Christina aguilera and as just as an obscure popstar as I was an undiagnosed non-binary autistic female. I remember being mad I wasn’t allowed to play football. I still had to have long hair but I felt like I embraced that more as a teenager. I got to wear all black (no piercings though cept when I pierced my lip in class with a thumb tack like an idiot and had that a couple of days… DO NOT DO THIS, BTW. IT HURTS AND LEAVES A HORRID SCAR. SAVE YOURSELF) and I got to dye my hair this nice burgundy color. Dating was weird. I was too independent and masculine for most guys my age (I was one of the guys but didn’t put up with their shit either) and was intimidating. I had a few girl crushes but they never went anywhere mainly out of judgement.) I felt like the girls embraced my true self at this age more than the guys.. where I basically expected to… Act like one of the guys. It was confusing and draining. But I got through it. I remember watching Constantine and seeing Tilda Swinton as Gabriel for the first time when I was like 15 or so. This was the first moment I’d ever been in awe to see someone who represented how I felt internally and physically representing that flawlessly and who I desperately wanted to be like on the outside. It’s how I felt.. who this person inside me is despite the shell I’m in.

Pregnancy. That’s such a weird concept when you truly think about it. A tiny human grows from something so small you cant see it with your eye into a whole baby. Incredible.. and I got to experience it. It wasn’t planned at all but I welcomed it just as I did everything else that came into my life.. unexpectedly or not. I remember feeling him move for the first time. Pregnancy felt weird. I didn’t feel like it was MY body going through the changes despite there being quite obvious mental, hormonal, physical changes. It’s so hard to explain. Plus with so many other things going on it’s really hard to paint the whole picture of what pregnancy was like. Even when they cut my son out of me, the reality of “this is happening to me. My body. I have the uterus that grew this beautiful baby” but I couldn’t understand it or fully wrap my head around the gravity of that entire experience. I’ll go more into this in another blog.

Now, we get to the last 11 years or so. I’ve had peace. I’ve cut my hair into a mohawk with 9 or so piercings and plenty of tattoos. I’m happily married to my husband, whom I adore. Our sex life is fantastic and probably fairly average and not as weird as I assume most would think when they read this. (I might be wrong, idk. Never opened up about this or me like this before). My husband is very accepting and embracing of my gender especially only getting answers as to what it’s called and finding out others had other experiences in the last 5 years or so and we’ve been together for almost 16 years. As of right now, I still haven’t settled on a singular name (but Im trying to go by Valkyrie so I can still go by my actual name for a short version and it’s easy for me and them… for the time being while I think on it more and it’s okay if I change my mind) but it’s still a desire I have so I’ve accepted and embraced the singular name concept, something that was shunned a loooong time ago and forgotten about… Finally embraced and it feels so nice and relieving.

I could point out my masculine traits all day and I still think my dad would deny me or say it’s made up or dismiss it with something. He won’t see how masculine (or unfeminine) I was. Sadly, I was not a planned child and my parents wanted a boy. My youngest sibling was born male and my dad spent so much time focusing on how masculine my male born sibling wasn’t that he didn’t see the masculine son was there all along.

At this point, I’m beyond trying to prove myself. Whoever can see me how they want nor do they have to understand me because I’m done trying to explain and justify myself. I FINALLY understand myself and it’s sooooo relieving to have validation and it’s just one more aspect this lonely soul discovered about themselves as an adult that’s been super incredible and helpful. Would it have beneficial for me to have answers and support sooner? Absolutely. It would’ve helped my confidence problems at the least, I think. Maybe someday my dad and I can have this conversation… But right now we need to get past giving thumbs up responses when I send a 150 lb weight loss update to him. I’ll keep y’all updated but don’t keep up hope anything positive or good will happen.. which is something else I’m slowly coming to peace with. We will save that for another time though.

#nonbinary #gender #genderidentity #neurodiversity #adhd #autistic #actuallyautistic #lgbtq #neurodivergent #thoughts #blog #blogging

The Introduction.

I wanted to start off by introducing myself. I’m going full steam ahead at being middle aged and I was only diagnosed as autistic 4 years ago. The answer was absolutely life changing but maybe not in the ways most would expect. I was also diagnosed just last week with ADHD on top of it which has given me even more paths to navigate. I opened up this blog mainly to get all these thoughts out of my brain and on turning it into something creative and maybe (hopefully) beneficial… Things that I’m processing now and in my history and things that were impacted in my life due to being undiagnosed for SO LONG. How “severe” could I be if I went undiagnosed for so long? Let’s start diving.

I guess painting a picture of my family would be a good start. I’m the middle offspring of 3. My older sibling has unexplained (to me) intellectual disabilities and my younger sibling was born cleft lip and pallet. My mom cared for the 3 of us and our needs and my dad was the provider. My siblings and I and my father are all autistic (but none of us knew what it was called. I was the first in my family to be diagnosed). I used to think we were as perfect of a family as was depicted in our family pictures… Even now… But we are horribly dysfunctional. Despite my father physically being there, there is 0 emotional connection between my father and I and it’s always been that way. My mother singlehandedly took care of our needs as best as she could but with my other 2 siblings needing very visible needs, I was partially neglected.

School was absolute hell for me from kindergarten all the way to 12th grade. I struggled in school in general but I was also heavily bullied in elementary… So much so that I had the wind knocked out of me multiple times and remember passing out once and waking up with a teacher and students surrounding me on the ground. By 3rd grade I just stood by the wall and lunch ladies and did drawing. I drew a lot. I felt like I could express myself and my brain and thoughts more when I would draw. I could pay attention more when I’d draw too.. sadly, drawing on your school work makes it messy and your grade gets knocked down for it. I was never academically inclined and the strict rules in class rooms and in school systems in general made it even harder for me to succeed. My mom tried tutors to help me get organized and with homework but it still didn’t work. I was FINALLY held back in 6th grade after years of barely passing but it was only due to mono and missing so much school. We moved the following year and did much better in a rural area with smaller classrooms. I can only think of a handful of teachers who saw potential and just had a different way of doing it and helped me and I thrived in their classes. They didn’t complain about me like the other teachers who said I “daydreamed” and “wasn’t interested in school”. These special teachers saw I wanted to learn, saw how defeated I’d been, and showed me I did have potential and that I wasnt stupid and that I could do the work just had a different style in learning and putting what I learned on paper. The world needs more teachers like this. If it wasn’t for them, I don’t know where I’d be.

I have been on a self recovery journey for the last 10 years, figuring out who I am and healing from life long traumas in various forms. I’ve discovered so much about myself and (more importantly) gained a much better understanding of others. I’ve been married for 8 years this year and have been with my husband since we were in our mid teens.

I don’t wanna make this too long so I’ll wrap up with current stuff for now and write another blog in depth on some things more at another time. I’m now 31 and what lead me to my diagnosis was a mental breakdown. A burnout. I had worked and forced myself to act and pass as normal as possible cuz I had no answer or reason not to. I felt like an alien left on Earth and meant to survive amongst people and failing. All I could say at the counter of the mental health facility I went to was “I’m broken please help me”. I first got diagnosed as autistic with PTSD. I’d spent so many years and so much energy and effort trying to pass and be normal that it literally broke me. So I’ve spent the last 4 years relearning EVERYTHING (even speech) and working with my brain instead of against it.. and it’s been wonderfully eye opening.

I dunno if hashtags work for this but I’m going to try anyways and apologize in advance if I’m doing this wrong… which I probably am. #actuallyautistic #autism #adhd #autistic #neurodivergent