You set the pace in this rugged little rat race I turned for a moment stuck in the torment This seductive game I couldn’t be contained Shrewd yet so weak pretending I was meek Calling your bluff in your ridiculous cuffs Rolling my eye no more tears left to cry Pathetic to any shunned by many Digging your way down buried underground I laugh at you now with your furrowing brow Disapproval lashing about fuck off hear my shout This battle is over the war won covers me in clover Flourishing in joy no longer your ragged little toy Dead soul torn apart what once held your heart You’ve lost much more than I gave you credit for Etched upon my brain your turn to feel such pain It all began with you telling me nothing ever true Blood boiling red your skin peeling so to shed Addiction is your enemy but I however am set free Taunt me more believe what you don’t know Hell is where you reside not a soul on your side Only in the wake of your demise you fall not rise Me on the other hand unstoppable taking a stand Tell me again once more with conviction about honor respect and love Oh wait that’s right yours is only a contradiction You taught me more than I ever bargained for Let me praise Him for pushing me out the door Stop listening to his demands Only the righteous One commands The world will shout but the Man whispers about “Get off his back Get out of God’s way Get on with your life” Get it? Got it? Good!
Question his communication/sexting with that other female
Stack the entire wood pile and it will be wrong
Report any male interaction (which is not allowed anyhow) inaccurately
Have your own thought or unwelcomed opinion
Ask permission to help your child, be told no and having it tear you two
Speak to anyone in public while by his side without permission first
Take initiative and always get it wrong
Not have all your thoughts gathered prior to asking him a simple question in the form of a request
Make any decisions without asking him first
Think you can use the bathroom without asking first
Forget to bring the lint brush to your inspection
Wear something/everything to please him
Speak casually about nothing in particular
Have emotions about something
Have feelings about anything
Provide self care that doesn’t suit him
Rest when there are chores to attend to
Do anything that might negatively affect him
The word no will be removed from your vocabulary then if there’s any implication of a pushback, and there will be and it will torment you that he has the last word and final say in everything pertaining to you
and when you do…
As I warn you of his darkest secrets, I can feel his hand around my neck, pulling my hair back with the other while he leads me to the bed where I would find myself bound face down, ankles tied to a dowel, rear end arched in the air, naked and exposed, completely at his mercy where he would begin administering his correction with corporal punishment by means of a cane, all the while asking why you did what you did, telling you to count down every painful swat as the lacerations trickle red fluid and you will weep and you will sob and you will be terrified to stay and tormented to leave and you will wonder if he means it when he says, I love my good little girl…so you stay, broken and defeated only to fall asleep and question… it all
You will wake up one day very soon, consumed with anxiety while confusion ensues and fear will rule your world and he will revel as you wriggle. He will coerce and convince you that you have a masochistic little girl deep down inside just to feed his sadistic appetite. He will take this as far as possible, insidiously it will overtake your world and then you will find it near impossible to escape as the pathways of your brain become trampled. You begin questioning yourself, believing his words and then you will disappear inside your mind, lost to yourself and the world you once knew.
He will invest in you in ways that make only him happy, so long as you worship and serve solely him and you don’t disrupt his intentions and goals to use you, possess and keep you for his property to use at his disposal, that way he can destroy you and you won’t know what’s coming.
You will unintentionally cross him, guaranteed, and he will call it catastrophic. The dismissals of you will begin. Each and every time he discards you, will be more painful the the last and he will do this, time and time again, until you become wise to him, then and only then will he begin his sick psychotic cycle again and every time he summons you back will be worse than the time before and this will become your bond of trauma, your life and none of it will be real, except his sickness of narcissistic abuse.
You will find yourself blasting My Immortal, singing it loudly and passionately to his absent self hoping he would feel, something, anything, as if he ever cared one single ounce for you, because he didn’t. He can’t. He’s numb.
He despised me using my voice in the end, unveiling his true ways and that truth is, I loved a malignant, sociopathic, covert narcissistic person for 9 years. One driven by his own pain and agony as the wretched demonic attachments linger and strangle his heart further.
I was his main fuel supply for his every erotic, sadistic thought and act, his deepest devotion only to his manipulation and domination. My fear was his oxygen, his control was my nemesis, destruction and demise. For any other on his radar, close to being in his clutches, entrapped by this ongoing calculated mode, he will assuredly lure you in as his next victim and flying monkey. Sucked in to perform his cowardly dirty work for him, beware. These are his only means of controlling what is the only thing that ever mattered to him and is now uncontrollable, and that my darling, is me.
She thanked her profusely for never following through with her suicidal thoughts. She couldn’t bring herself to ask if there were actual attempts. She just let her brain assume so, but prayed there weren’t and won’t be anymore. Fear…
These two are so freakishly alike it’s a beautiful harmonious connection. They’ve shared those thoughts as if these were good bonding moments. Really what it says is, “I know better than anyone, and understand your heavy heart, the devastating pain and deepest hurts you’re feeling”. Her mama couldn’t possibly know how she felt exactly, but the agony resonated. The feelings of complete despair and just a desire for the pain to stop. Yeah, that she gets. Confusion…
Mama sits with her, she’s learning to listen, really hear her child’s anguish, obstacles, fears and all the past that floods her head and it all pours out. Sometimes her words are accompanied with anger and outbursts still, almost always with tears and probably for a long while still with confusion of what to do next. “Take it slow, but definitely at your pace”, she encourages her. Processing…
Let her just vomit her words so the poison is extracted. “It’s ok”, she tells her, “I can hold it for you sweetie, I can take it”. Mama knows her frustration isn’t about her necessarily. She can be her sounding board, but not her punching bag or doormat. She’s learned that part of detachment pretty well. It’s not without difficulty when it’s your own child. Unconditional…
Ever since she was 12 her favorite expression was, “I got this mom”. And you know, she always has. Mama smiles intently at her, “I know baby, but it’s ok not to have it all figured out right here right now. Give time time and let things come to you naturally when you can. Forcing solutions can be frustrating as hell, as can sitting still, I know”. Wisdom…
Their talks are more frequent now and her mama is grateful for the relief she sees in her child’s face more often, now and then, here and there. This is only the beginning of all the transitions ahead, yet the only thing that ever matters to her mama is her children’s happiness, contentment and feeling loved, all of them. Closeness…
She gave birth to her and her brothers, she has them all on borrowed time and she knows this too well. Time is fleeting and life is precious. How quickly it can disappear, how fragile it actually is. Guilt consumes her some days. The “if only’s” play out in her head and she cries. Sadness overwhelms her at times and she makes time to call her child just to say I love you. She can’t seem to hug her tight enough when she sees her. Never again will she ever feel her mama’s absence, nor will her brothers. Available…
She thinks they still need her as they always have, but really it’s mama who’s needing them more. Present…
Sex describes the biological sex a person was assigned at birth. It’s based on biological characteristics of maleness or femaleness as indicated by chromosomes, gonads, hormones and genitals.
Gender identity is a component of gender that describes a person’s psychological sense of their gender.
Seems fairly straightforward. So why the confusion? I’m going with, fears, doubts, unwillingness to be educated and the only real “choice” surrounding this hot topic is being open minded. Instead they face the closed mindedness and ignorance, uneducated, uninformed, prejudice, homophobic, gender phobic, stubbornness and whole lot of uncomfortableness for truth in their daily lives. They fight battles they shouldn’t have to, struggles, obstinacy and cruelty as if they aren’t human with all the same basic rights of equality, peace, love and respect every person deserves.
It’s common for people to confuse sex, gender, and gender identity. But they’re actually all different things.
Sex is a label — male or female — that you’re assigned by a doctor at birth based on the genitals you’re born with and the chromosomes you have. It goes on your birth certificate.
Gender is much more complex: It’s a social and legal status, and set of expectations from society, about behaviors, characteristics, and thoughts. Each culture has standards about the way that people should behave based on their gender. This is also generally male or female. But instead of being about body parts, it’s more about how you’re expected to act, because of your sex.
This topic has been created to be an issue for many generations now when the fact is, it simply needs to be understood as truth for humans. Changing minds could be the goal, but really it is acceptance and the ability to evolve.
Rarely do people like to be told they’re wrong, but if you think gender identity is a choice, you’d be incorrect.
Live and let live. Why do I even have to say that?
In the quiet space of my mind I hear God’s whispers and I believe what I hear and tell myself. It’s in the noisy places out there I hear the world’s shouts. But I have this child like hope that lingers deep inside my heart. The one that says I can do anything and then someone gives me doubt. It’s in those moments I retaliate with my, shut the fuck up attitude and an, I got this!
I walked into the gym today, frustrated and even a little angry. It was terribly hot in there, it felt like a sauna. I became annoyed. Am I going to admit defeat before I even start, but then who’s winning? Not the girl I see in the mirror. I suited up and showed up for this. No whining with these 6 other awesome gym rats gettin’ it done. Not another chick amongst them. I sucked it up, grabbed some dumbbells and got to it.
I found a playlist, adjusted my headphones, tightened my pony and with each rep and every round, I felt strengthened. It began to remind me of my life. The way I cower to some men. Feeling like I don’t belong in their presence. That somehow they’re above my grade to breathe the same air or take up some of the same space, theirs. Bullshit. Every one of these gentlemen was just that today, courteous and polite, even slightly chivalrous. We had fun. I belong here I told myself.
My vision I’ve had for years was flashing across my mind as the sweat rolled down my back. I will have everything I desire. This is my one awesome life. No one will ever tell me different, again. Discourage me and I’m done with you. Ridicule me and you’re gone too. Underestimate me, hmm that could be fun. I wouldn’t.
To all of you who’ve pushed me around To all of you who’ve torn me down To all of you who said I can’t To all of you who told me no Watch me rise Enjoy the show
I sat there on the couch, feet up, cuddled by the warmth of my favorite blanket watching nothing in particular on the tv, apparently it was for the background noise . The quietness outside competed with the sound of your car as you pulled into the drive. I took a semi deep breath and remained calm, both of which have been difficult to accomplish these days.
Typically you come by, with your usual demeanor, the inability to just be. I feel the energy coming at me before you enter the door, but this time you remained in your car. Curious as to what you were doing, I casually strolled past the window a time or two to take a glance, ah, you’re on the phone. This could be awhile, and it was. I took notice as I confirmed what had your attention. There was something different about you, but I’ll wait I thought. My intuition is pretty strong and my emotional intellect even higher. After all, you are my child, grown or not, I carried you in my body for 9 months. Little gets past me and even less surprises me.
Finally you made your way through the door and I was correct about your person although I wasn’t quite sure what it was, not yet. We got beyond the formalities of hi’s and hugs and found ourselves sitting now, a little awkwardly and I was eager to know why. Clearly you have a heavy heart, a burden you’re struggling to balance and even hold. You’d begin talking incessantly, this is never new to me, but there was a nervousness about you and I just listened. This has become our routine. You talk, I listen and soon it turns into a long threaded rant on nearly every topic from childhood to current time. Whew. Catch a wave pal, you’re drifting. I remain quiet, taking in what I can, paying attention to my own breath, facial expressions arms and body language. This child is working up to something heavy and deep as the words keep flying, but not much is being said.
There’s that moment when someone is trying desperately to unload something, but fear has stymied what is needing to be shared and so the conversation goes in circles and backtracks, then the trickles begin. The questions fly, do you remember when I was such and such and age and this and that happened? I’m trying to keep up, really focus on what’s being said or rather what’s being eluded to but not fully comprehending the message. I’m working on my patience. My unconditional love for this grown child pouring out from me while the fumbling keeps happening. This went on for 4 hours. God have mercy on this child and help the words just flow, please Lord.
At last the personal revelation and truth emerged from this poor child’s lips. I sit silently as I feel my shoulders relax and I grin, hoping my quiet response was loving and supportive. I nodded in agreement or maybe it was acceptance, but either way, I felt a wave of relief wash over me. At last we have a reason, the reason for all the peculiar, relentless, angry behavior that has consumed this child for nearly 25 years.