Protections

It's odd remembering the times when I thought my father was god. The end all be all of knowledge and know-how of how the world works ... How it is. How it should be. Alas, he's an idiot drone now, worshipping the dollar and Skidmark throne. He's well-read, but would rather stick his head in the ground or stick his fingers in his ears singing LALALALALA...

I thought I could explain or possibly suggest to him a different way of thinking... But all that conversation proved was his insane superiority complex... 

He's not the same man who raised me or my sister. He's been tainted by Faux News influencers and tail-eating snakes. He is in complete denial that his mother is turning in her grave with the notion that he'd ever vote for the golden calf. The showboat Skidmark who fancies himself a king, but is coasting on the stupidity of inbred, incel Americans... 

"I don't quite understand what he's doing with the Tariffs..." Uh huh... I bet ya don't. No one does.

The administration is making sure that the poor stay poorer, for longer. That the lower classes are in fact, beneath men like my dad, in their own arrogant beliefs, "that can't happen to me." 

That the unhoused become the free fodder of prison labor and basically indentured servants of the state of their arrests. 

*IOI from Ready Player One, called...* Our dystopian nightmare is here. 

The Skidmark and his goons keep silencing comedians. Those who speak out against him... Who are modern philophers. We live in an authoritarian regime... And my grandparents would be incredibly disappointed in my father and their other descendants if they knew who they voted for, on the wrong side of history. 

Ever look up the history of Fanta? 

...

I often wonder at what point did my father's brain rot? He was a man of the church, but felt superior to those less fortunate... He doesn't volunteer at homeless shelters, but throws money at institutions he "believes in." ...he raised me and my sister with the notion and importance on unbiased news consumption and the written word. 

My stepmother is a type-A cunt. She is a religious convert from Protestant to Catholicism. My dad's dad would ask her if we are having chicken for dinner, ever since she served it for her *first* Good Friday. Lol. 

In general, my father's mom hated her, and when I was told that by her, my stepmom... I finally released the notion of needing to know her or want to be in her orbit. I was free of her. It's been about 4 years since I had a full, earnest conversation with my stepmother. She has othered my sisters' kids and it's incredibly disheartening.

My father is undiagnosed... But I have a strong suspicion that I get ADHD from his side and Autism from my mom. 

I was severely neglected by her and emotionally abused by both mothers. I suffered both types of parentfication (1st, an older sibling is put in charge of a younger sibling, to perform duties like that of a parent; to bare the weight of parental responsibilities without the understanding of informed consent... And 2nd, a parent confides and relies on their children like they would a peer or partner). 

My father has been with volatile women... Since I started my journey of shadow work and healing, I've realized that I've always wanted to play a scenario of a Gertrude yelling monologue, ranting about something she was "fed up with" ....and our dad stepping in between us and his spouse, demanding her to shut up, and state simply, "do not talk to my girls like that." Setting that standard at the very beginning of their marriage... To include us in their reindeer games...

But I never got that. I had to learn how to better myself outside of my upbringing. I had to unlearn a lot to be a better person. I had to grow a spine out of spite. I had to find and at least align myself with others who hold integrity like currency. Reputation of one's character goes a long way. 

Autism is known for rigid black and white thinking ... And a sense of justice. Sorry, a STRONG sense of justice. I fear to be on a registration somewhere, as an autistic... But I am a proud autistic woman. I am proud of who I work for and who I spend my time with. I am proud of my friends, new and old in acquaintance. I am proud of my kid, no matter where they are in life. 

I am proud of my siblings, even with their flaws. I am proud of my mother, she has figured herself out over the years and I hope she and I mend soon, more. She had asked for forgiveness back in 2018 ish and she has received it. But I haven't forgotten... And it's what I'm sorting out now. 

I had to grow up and keep the peace at such a young age... I feel like I was left alone a lot and yet was alone in most of my immediate family's company, even with the free cable on. I was othered and ignored... I was left to my own devices and kept out of touch and out of reach to protect the golden child, the perfect child he got right, my brother. I don't think Brother knows the woes we faced as his father's first born daughters. I don't think he's ever held such power over us, mostly because he is kept unaware... He worships our dad... 

I'm not sorry for calling your mom a cunt, Brother. She is dismissive of the damage she caused us, growing up. I cannot claim we had no blame in the matter, but WE WERE CHILDREN, TOO. We had to measure up to some unobtainable standard according to her nutty notions of what a woman is or should be, or even according to some book written by an old man. ...we did not come from her. We were never good enough and we were excluded at every turn... The appearance of a happy family was more important than a functional, emotionally-sound family. 

I hope my father feels my pain someday, like if that empathy gun ever existed from Hitchhikers guide... Of the missing days of childhood innocence...of the unprotected childhood tortured supplied to us by someone who vowed to him, to love... But they didn't include his duties as a father to us... The people who predate her... 

Her reach was always conditional; there were many strings. And he is her simp, through and through. He would bend over backwards for her happiness and her way, before ever wanting a meaningful connection with his "overly sensitive daughters" ... Or be single ever again. He ignores his feelings and decides to not process because that is easier... There is no right time... There is no convenient time... He always had to keep the peace. He must be exhausted....

The troupe of the rich deadbeat dad and the abandoned daughter hasn't really been flushed out yet in media... I think a lot of men in Hollywood would have to answer for their attonement ... 

Talk about a dirty secret. I see a lot of human behavioral patterns and I've decided my part in history. I will record my thoughts for people to read. I will always say what's on my mind and inquire information by questions. I observe actions and notice when things go unsaid. 

There is a right side and a correct side of history. Idt white America has really felt the actual cruel wrath that has infected most of the earth, in other countries. The restrictions of those with different nationalities. The complete unrest of othering. How does one participate when I've been othered this entire time?

.........

Family energy didn't really make sense until we had had reunions... That we got to absorb some of our cousins' loving, family magic. Knowing that my uncle had pulled my father aside a few times to be like..."wtf, you do remember you have daughters, too, right?" 

Idk where I'd be without my other male family members, showing me the warmth and kindness that masculinity is supposed to be like... The level of knowledge and protection fathers are supposed to supply.... I never witnessed such from my dad, for us. 

Hell, for Brother's wedding, the power point Dad put together, picturing Brother's "perfect life," basically erased us from his upbringing. We are his embodied shame. We are his reminders of a failed marriage... We are not worth his time and energy... We are supposed to chase him, to want to know him? Why?

We are supposed to inquire his thoughts on matters of a life he knows nothing about? About my values in this life... How it sickens me he'd be the captialist that Jesus flipped tables of... He doesn't understand the hypocrisy of the lines between what is right and what is tolerable.... Don't rock the boat. "What can you do or say for the best outcome?" ...life is messy. Best outcome for who? I bet that cunt would give you ultimatums... I hate ultimatums. That's a lazy way of conveying communication. 

You won't miss the safe space, the safe bumper comfort zones in old age... You'll miss the missed opportunities... The moments of safe discomfort for growth. Feeling intense nerves is good for the soul... Even if you fail, you win... You learn what not to do next. 

I've had to unlearn and relearn how to better myself and how to grow like the rose I am, thorns and all. I've had to recreate myself over and over and get really good at forgiving myself in times of embarrassment and anger... And got really good at being thankful for what I have and really good at choosing when to apologize....

Learning how to seize moments and learn from failure is a flex in this life. Whenever I chase money, I'm never that happy... You'd have to spend time with others who worship the dollar over the integrity of one's character... They are always one dimensional and/or shallow.

I know what disrespect looks like. I know the differences between kindness and being nice... I know to trust one's word matching a follow-through action as opposed to empty promises of constant inaction.

.............

Comedians have laughed in the face of death and won with words of truth. Laughter fixes most atrocities by pointing out its absurdities. 

People in power are few... They are weak with surface level insecurities and buckle to accommodate the empty promises of wealth... Actions to better humanity through thought and emotional intelligence will hopefully be my legacy. 

I hope certain family members read these words someday and share their feelings with me. I'm not even emotional as I write this entry. It's more or less what I've been writing about the last few years... Good or bad... I hope someday I can have some conversations with others about what happened in the past, instead of being dismissive and hurtful... 

"It doesn't happen to me..." Isn't a reason to ignore compassion. Apparently that's taught, and isn't intuitive to some... I've had to teach myself a lot ... And I'm getting tired.

I might be overthinking 

...

Snow.