||January 14th, 2018 Sunday|| I've been trying to write out this post for months now. So, this is going to be long and somewhat disjointed. Got into a big argument with my mom on Halloween. This reminded me of some other stuff from the past. Some lines I didn't mention the last post that I talked about regular phrases my parents used: "Get with the program" (when someone doesn't do what she wants) "So now it's MY fault?!" (when something is blatantly her fault and evidence is given, heard that one during the argument about something that was 100% exclusively her fault) "AH. That's rich!" (usually after the previous, done as a way to deny being at fault and throw it back at the person that no, it's really THEIR fault and they're the ones misplacing blame) "What is that going to accomplish?" (when someone refuses to bend to her demands--i.e., telling someone to immediately leave the house, stop talking, when making threats, etc and the other person doesn't cave) "We're done here." (last ditch resort, another form of "you are now being kicked out of my general vicinity and I know I am out of options to counter with because it's so blatantly obvious it's my fault", if in a vehicle, she would sometimes threaten to leave me on the side of the road no matter where we are--being threatened to be abandoned in random, far off locations she dragged me and my brother to while she did shady shit behind my dad's back was a pretty common occurrence along with being thrown out of the house for an unspecified amount of time at early ages) She "apologized" ten days later, but it was a vague apology where she didn't really specify doing anything wrong just that she was "sorry about the other night". That's it. I'm still kind of in shock about it. So many facial expressions I haven't seen her make in years, all strung together with old favorite lines and physical aggression. Because I dared to challenge her about her being verbally abuse to my physical disabled grandmother who has dementia (she took her blankets away from her too...for no reason. While screaming at her for using blankets in fall!) and shouting at her own dogs really fucked up things in front of little kids who were trick-or-treating. She was acting fucking psychotic. I'd been inside that house a total of less than thirty minutes before I got to hear "we're done here" and I am pretty sure the argument lasted 5-10 minutes of that time. Everything else was her going insane at anyone in the general vicinity, including yelling at me for not participating in her wanting to shout at and beat untrained dogs for barking at strangers. And then there was her talking shit about my uncle and his wife too. So much awfulness. She even told my grandmother that my uncle thinks she's going to die soon because she's such a horrible person at taking care of herself while my mom snatched her blankets off of her and then refused to clean an injury she had on her foot. (My mom is my grandmother's sole caretaker AND 100% in charge of her finances and the only way for ANY relatives to see my grandmother is through my mom. She even intercepts and listens in on my grandmother's phone calls and makes it clear to anyone talking to my grandmother on the phone that she is also on the phone too...) I don't believe for a second my uncle actually said that. My uncle avoids talking to my mother as much as possible, and he doesn't post online much either. I'm pretty positive she wholesale made that shit up just to be an asshole. But yeah, she talked shit about my uncle and his wife before blowing up at grandma then immediately made up my uncle saying something fucked up to tell my grandmother just to make her feel like shit while taking her blanket away when she was cold. And refusing to clean the injury she was also yelling at her about as her "punishment" for using a blanket. WHAT. THE. FUCK. She tried to convince me it was my grandmother's fault she yelled at her and she deserved to not have blankets. She yelled at her a classic line too, "I'm not your maid". Yeah, as her sole caretaker...you actually are! She could easily hire a nurse or a maid to help her. They had two nurses that came several times a week when my grandfather was alive. Once he died, my mom stopped paying for that. I'm betting she's just pocketing all of my grandmother's money for her own bullshit. (While still asking other relatives for money all the time when my dad, sans like one relative, makes more money than all of my close relatives, myself included. And also saying my aunt (dad's sister) is a piece of shit if she asks for money when my mom knows my aunt's abusive husband steals her money all the time to spend on his mistresses.) I don't understand how someone can be that fucked in the head. Recently, I was thinking maybe they're getting less bad with age and the more extreme behavior from the past is decreasing...but no. She went full on psycho. Like she just kept on escalating until she blew up and made me leave. WTF TAKING AN OLD WOMAN'S BLANKETS AWAY AS A PUNISHMENT. FOR USING BLANKETS. IN FALL. Sadly, I doubt I could get her in legal trouble. She's so manipulative I'm pretty sure she'd somehow make me look like the bad guy and nothing would get done. It's so infuriating. I think the only way I could get anything done would be to catch her and secretly record her, but I'm not sure if that's actually legal here or not. The last time my mom got all weird like this was around when I was 18-20. She fucking loathed my very existence during that time frame, after a few teenage years of pretending she liked me (so long as I wore blah, had blah haircut, liked blah interests, had blah grades, etc...completely conditional) and it was like any time we talked at all, she wanted to explode at me and go on about how awful of a human being I was. While my brother was busy dropping out of high school and wasting tons of their money and drinking every bottle he could get his hands on. But he's an angel. My crime was...fuck if I know. But she didn't get physical aggressive at least. It was all verbal and psychological abuse. She hasn't tried charging me or doing anything physical since somewhere in my mid-teens (it rarely happened then, but it did occasionally happen) and not regularly since I was a preteen. I feel like she was most hateful before I was a preteen though. I still got beat a lot, but damn nowhere near as much as mid-elementary school and lower. Daily, sometimes more than once a day. For no reason other than one of my parents was angry most of the time. The few times I actually did something wrong, my punishments would still be disproportionate to what I did. A day for me age 7 might be something like: -screamed at in the morning for not waking up on time (my mom never bought me an alarm clock...I was supposed to wake up by...? magic? this was before kids having phones of their own was common, I didn't have my own cell phone until midway through high school) -no breakfast, because my mom "doesn't like eating breakfast" (years later she would tell us none of us like eating breakfast to the point my brother and I would repeat that reason to other people when people asked why we didn't eat breakfast) -having trouble tying my shoes still (which she wouldn't get looked into despite all my coordination issues and teachers telling her I needed to be evaluated for a number of issues) -screamed at if I wanted to listen to a different radio station on the way to school -screamed at for not getting out of the car fast enough because "we're going to be late" (which would either be from her leaving half an hour late or half an hour early in which case I would never be late since the school was like...10-15 minutes away) -picking me up late from school, always, usually about an hour late, but sometimes longer -complaining about random crap as soon as I get in the car -when we get home, I "needed" to get away from her, according to her because I'm "always up her ass" and "never leave her alone" (this was never true, she literally just wanted me out of her sight entirely) -if she got upset, beating, typically with some weird mind games, like making my brother pick the belt if it was a belting and whether or not he picked an "acceptable" one could determine if he also got beat (or vice versa with me and him) or telling me I'm not really in pain if she slammed me into furniture or walls and I'm "being a baby" and I can't really be in pain from being dragged down a hallway, etc -probably a rude comment about my body, i.e. I'm ugly/fat/she only tells me I'm not ugly in public because that's what "moms have to do" (I was neither, thanks--a lot of people asked me if I was a child model, also I was underfed and very outdoorsy so obviously I was never once overweight--never stopped me from having a lot of self-hatred about my appearance as a kid though) -another beating after my dad got home or threat of it, if dad beat me there will actually be marks and possibly bruises (above the knee, but I recall bruises all from my ass to my knees because I couldn't wear any shorts for risk of someone accidentally seeing them and calling CPS, I'm pretty sure there was also an incident or two where I had to wear a long sleeve shirt for the same reason but I can't clearly remember how that went down), sitting and laying will be painful for a while, I'll struggle to not pass out post-beating (from the whole pressing down on my body to intentionally make it hard for me to breathe), and desperately trying not to cry because that will only mean more punishment--face was always avoided when getting hit or slammed because they wouldn't be able to hide the bruises from my teachers then. One of my dad's favorite pre-belting activities was to pull me by my hair or even more often, grab my wrist/hand and squeeze so hard I was terrified my bones would break while he screamed at me about stupid shit. -one of my parents will probably have a sexually inappropriate conversation with me at some point, if not both or expose me to something sexually inappropriate but if it's on TV, I need to "close my eyes" during sex scenes because I'm too young to see it but otherwise constant sex-related stuff like leaving playboy magazines everywhere and talking about their sex lives to me -probably be told something I enjoy is stupid or worthless -conversation with my dad will basically be me sitting there solely to agree with him and stroke his ego and tell him everyone in the world is wrong but him and he's a genius at everything and how I need to turn into him 2.0 but not as perfect, because no one is better than him -parents will argue at least three times before bedtime, and at least one of those will cause a blow up between them -homework--can't do homework unless I literally eat every single thing on my plate, I will be required to sit there until my plate is empty--even if I feel so full eating more is making me feel sick or my mom served me something she knows I'm allergic to while she tells me I'm just being "dramatic" if I end up throwing up after eating the thing I'm allergic to -unless she was mad at me for something, then I might not have dinner, just like I didn't have breakfast already -then homework, which my parents never looked over past first grade a couple of times--they never enforced anything with schoolwork beyond the threat that I'd be homeless if I failed a single class ever and I had no value outside of making good grades but they had no intentions of helping me make better grades, hell they didn't care much about making sure I had school supplies -bath time at night--typically I'd get stuck sharing with my brother -at bedtime, my brother and I were required to spend like an hour or so in my parents bedroom while they were both naked and watch TV with them for...some reason...in our underwear because they didn't have us wear pajamas -we'd go to bed at the same time and typically my mom wouldn't want us closing the bedroom door, but I typically got up and closed it anyway, she'd yell at me if she caught me doing it -my parents would lock their own bedroom door for a while most nights and talk really loudly and have sex, then unlock the door or open it back and watch TV really loudly for a few more hours, making it impossible for me or my brother to even attempt to get to sleep at the time they made us go to bed (our bedroom was directly beside their bedroom) -then I'd tried to finally sleep but I'd be so paranoid about someone coming into my room at night and attacking me, most nights I rarely slept and I typically had nightmares when I did -lather, rinse, repeat The summer version would involve lots of pawn shop visits and a whole lot less food eaten per day (lunch?! breakfast? PFFT not unless I was dropped off at my great-grandmother's house! seriously, during summer, she rarely made us lunch, we might get snacks if we're lucky or lunch if my dad was home, otherwise we both often ate a single real meal a day with maybe two small snacks prior to that), and the weekend version would typically involve basically being my dad's slaves for most of the time while the whole extended family seemed to gravitate around trying to inflate my dad's ego. I've mentioned most if not all of that stuff before, but I've never really laid it all out like that. There was definitely play time in there. I went outside as much as possible, even if I couldn't go much of anywhere and I'd get yelled at if I forgot to wear my shoes. That was always a big deal about me playing out in the backyard. I had to have my shoes on, but my mom didn't care if said shoes had holes in them or were falling apart or were getting too small for me and were physically painful to wear. I always wondered why she hated me so much. My dad was more inconsistent on that end. It was like he had a switch--if he got what he wanted from you, happy times (kinda, under his terms of course), but otherwise, he would be more abusive than my mother. My mother had her times when she'd pretend to like me, but the vast majority of the time she made it very clear she just straight up hated me. But then she'd tell me I have to love her because we're family and you HAVE to love your mother. Long before I was an adult, she was already telling me once I was an adult how I'd need to call her daily, and visiting at least once a week, how she wanted to move into a house directly beside mine, etc. All while clearly hating me at the same time. And of course, the kicker--how I'm going to take care of her when she's old and do everything for her. So I'm a punching bag and her future security, in her eyes. I'm not a person. I'm not sure if she sees anyone as a person. The more I go through my memories and from my recent interactions with my parents, the more it's obvious I don't know who these people are. They've both done a number on me and how I react to things, set me back years from where I should be right now--from abuse and neglect of various forms. How much they isolated me from other people and trained me to not trust anyone. How much they damaged my view of my self and my body, of my sexuality, of my sense of reality. They're horrible, disturbed people and to most people, they're completely nice and normal. Or at least, pass enough for normal. I wonder though. I've also observed a lot recently that they do some really abnormal things in public too, not just in private. Like maybe I never noticed as much before because my view of normal was skewed or I simply wasn't thinking about it. I was too busy thinking, hey they're acting crazy again and not...hey wait a minute, we're in the middle of a public space and everyone can see them acting like lunatics. That event I went to earlier in the year where my mom figured out when I was going and made sure she and my dad went the same day, then spent the whole time trying to track down me and my wife while my dad drunk texted me all during it...that was so cringey and not normal. My dad spent the rest of his time deciding what things my mom could buy for herself, and intentionally getting drunk specifically so he could "have fun" harassing many of the staff working there (in particular the female staff) and go off on "funny" sexist tirades because "we're in a medieval themed place, so that means I'm supposed to be able to get away with treating women like shit today!". That included his typical fucked up way of talking to my mom that he used to try to get his old buddies to laugh with him about (buddies that have long since stopped interacting with him) and harassing the ladies who served the alcohol there a lot. Ugh. I feel so bad for those poor ladies, though I'm sure they had to put up with a lot of dumb crap that day with how many 20-somethings got drunk. But you know, my dad's like in his fifties. That's even more cringey. I drank that day too, because I typically get a drink about 3/4th of the way through the event and sip on that over the last few hours. I normally don't drink at all, and what do you know, amazingly I don't get drunk every time I do touch alcohol. My dad drinks far more often--really, very frequently, and he manages to get himself drunk more often than not, from what I've seen. (But he will tell you he can totally out drink anybody!) He wanted to be drunk that day, as soon as possible (he said this), so he could "have fun messing with people". Spent the whole time dodging them and getting stupid ass texts from him (including pictures of myself from behind). Really made the whole experience pretty unenjoyable, shirtless men in kilts and hot ladies in armor doing horse tricks aside. They caught us on the way out and spent their time ranting at me about the prices of everything there...when the prices are online and you can know exactly what they are in advanced. How so and so event wasn't good, blah blah blah. It was just like every vacation I ever went on with my parents as a kid. Everything is bad. Everything is "expensive". They even topped it off with buying something ridiculously expensive and completely unrelated to the event and talking about how that was the only good thing at the event--something overpriced they could buy at any mall. I'd written down some other stuff she said to me in the past and some stuff I overheard her say to my grandmother for my wife to read. I'm going to write out some of those things here. These were from various points this year. I'm not sure about the specific dates anymore. To my grandmother: "You know what the doctor told me? That you need to get off your ass and start walking around. I told them the reason you can't get to the bathroom in time is because you said it's hard for you to get up and they said it's because you don't move around enough. Lack of exercise. It's your fault." (my grandmother has had issues with this since before her and my grandfather moved in with my parents several years ago, this is not a "recent" issues and not related to "being too lazy to get up"--and as my mom is the overshare queen, I'd of heard if she took my grandmother to a doctor--from what I can guess, she hasn't taken my grandmother to a doctor much since my grandfather died and I really doubt she's regularly talking to any of my grandmother's doctors) "I told (my dad) I'm not washing any more of your nasty clothes. You're washing it yourself or it's getting thrown away. It's going to come to a point you won't have any clothes and then I'll put you in a nursing home. When they ask where's your things, I'll tell them you don't have any because you got shit on all of them and you had to throw them away. See if that embarrasses you." (threat of sending her to a nursing home or having her go naked is a common one I've heard, but this time she combined the threats--she's not shy about saying this stuff in front of any relatives, it's not that she just doesn't care if I hear it) "Why didn't you wash that? What's wrong with it?" (gma) "It's just no good anymore. It's all ragged and worn out anyway." "Uh huh. No, it's because you're too fucking lazy to wash it. And that's YOUR favorite night gown. You ARE washing it later." (I really doubt my grandmother has a favorite night gown since she hasn't picked out her own clothes in years) "I'm not your maid." "There's nothing wrong with you. You're just lazy." (nevermind she has several physical conditions and dementia) "You're not a baby." "I don't see why you're sick to your stomach. You ONLY eat HEALTHY foods." (my mom regularly gives her food that I know doctors and nurses have told my mother in the past to not allow her to have, she did this with my grandfather too, buy him food he was not supposed to eat and let him eat as much of it as he wanted) "Look at this. Look at how many waters you have in here (fridge). You haven't drank ANY. That's why it's so hard for you to pee. You need to drink some fucking water." (again, she's had issues with this for years, and on other days, I've heard my mom bitch that my grandmother drank "too many" bottled waters because she had to refill the fridge) "You don't need the heater on. (the space heater in her room) That's a waste of electricity." (my parents run the AC in their house like 24hrs a day at 62-68, according to their own proud omissions, while also keeping the electric fireplace on during most of fall and all of winter...yes, at the same time) And now, things directly said to me, about my wife: A while back, my wife was picking me up from college and the battery in our car died. I called my mom to come jump us since she lives very close to my university and I knew they had cables, which turned into a fucking fiasco of cringe and wasted time (should have just called security in retrospect). Anyway, this was on the day after that. "How much did the battery cost?" "About $100." (me) "That's ridiculous. She should've gone to Autozone. It's much cheaper there. That's where I get all MY parts." (apparently I was not involved in this decision, but my mom also pretends my wife and I who are clearly together are NOT and we're both single...) "Does she pay attention to the speed limit at all?!" "Duh." (me) "Well, it didn't LOOK like it when I was behind her yesterday. (why does she always talk like I'm not there?) She was FLYING through there." "She was going speed limit." (me) "I WAS GOING SPEED LIMIT." "She was too." (me) "That was NOT going speed limit. I know what going speed limit looks like." (on another note, my mom and dad both rarely go speed limit) "Does she know how to change a tire?" "Yes." (me) "Oh...Does she EVER check her oil, at all?!" "Yes. Why?" "I'm just making sure she's doing proper car maintenance." "Why?" (she immediately changed the topic...she's never cared about this issue until then) On a weird coincidental note, my dad's car battery died while she was driving his car literally the next day. I actually wondered if she wanted some weird high of causing drama over it, but that seems a little out there for her to intentionally kill her battery. She ended up getting her battery from Walmart because Autozone was too expensive. "Hahahaha, what would you have done if I didn't come out there? You'd be STUCK. Hahaha." "I'd just ask someone else for help." "Oh." (she said this all disappointed) "Hahaha, single, that's (my wife). What will she do if she ever gets a husband? (LOL) Does she even know how to cook? She doesn't lift a finger. You do EVERYTHING for her. (what) She's going to have to learn someday. She'll have to learn (learn what?) when she gets married." (how dare I cook my wife dinner when I know how to cook more things than her and usually have more time in the day to cook than she does! oh no...) "Did YOU PAY for (anything of my wife's)?!" (probably true about half the time, but--duh?) "Did SHE PAY for (something of mine)?!" (again, probably true about half the time--who cares?) "Does she (wife) have ANY ambition at all in life? What's her plan? What's her DREAM?! She doesn't have any dreams...it's so sad. I RAISED MY KIDS BETTER THAN THAT. I let you be free to be whoever you are and follow your own path. My kids have dreams. I'm sure one day your brother will pick something. But she needs to figure something out. She's HOW OLD and doesn't have a DREAM? Does she NOT care? That's so weird to me." (all as one rambling stream in which I get to reply to NOTHING she is saying--it's a bunch of bullshit from every angle, and so bizarre...I think she's projecting here about how she herself has no dreams or ambition in life) This one was to me: "You look so sad. Are you okay?" "What? I'm not sad." "But you look so sad." "No, I don't." "You look mad. You look like you're mad at the world." "What?! No, I don't. Which is it? I thought you said I look sad." "It's BOTH. You look really sad AND really mad. What's wrong?" "I am neither of those. I don't look like anything." "Well, WHATEVER then!!" (all huffy and upset that I won't agree with her that I'm feeling emotions that I'm not feeling, lolwut) After the ten-day-late apology, she's started throwing gifts at me every time she saw me. Gifts that also don't make any sense, like most of her gifts but she expects a big reaction out of me about how nice she is for buying me things...she knows I absolutely would not want or like and never have liked. But she spent money, on me, so I should be excited! She's also being waaay too "nice" acting to the point it's creepy and blatantly fake. Like Stepford Wife weird. Sometimes, it feels like she only has two modes--bordering on crazy or sickeningly sweet fakeness. Which one you get, you'll never know. Something I've been thinking about from things my wife and I have talked about. Both our families, when we were kids, the adults would always make this big deal out of dumb shit that happened in stores and restaurants. You know, those customers you pray you won't have to deal with in a day--they were those people. Maxed out credit card because you're too dumb to keep up with how much you're spending? Better blame the cashier, blow up in the store, then blow up at the bank on the phone about how unfair it is, tell the cashier to keep your stuff nearby because you ARE going to pay, and then leave and keep harassing the bank about how it's not fair you can't spend more than your card's limit. Drive-through people couldn't hear your order well? Better explode at them for being "incompetent" even though it's far more likely they really just can't hear you well because the company is being cheap bastards with the equipment. Someone dropped trash out in the parking lot? Scream at them about how awful they are but be the same asshole that keeps smoking around kids constantly. Don't pick up the trash that was littered either. Screaming at people littering is more helpful than going over there and actually picking up the trash, totally. Something's slightly off with your food? Better explode about it until you get free food. Got delivery food? What is this tip thing? Why does our food keep ending up as garbage now? All the more reason to not give a tip! (I don't condone asshole delivery people fucking with food or property either though. Why the hell do I have to be on the receiving end of some "revenge" when my parents are being dicks and I'm a kid that can't do shit about it? But I am pretty much of the opinion that people who can't think beyond getting back that one person who slighted them of who they may also screw over in the process are likely people who also have anger/aggression issues and would probably do passive-aggressive or aggressive shit to people if they were the customers as well. Hell, I've seen proof of that.) I remember we once got a waitress, who it was her first day and she kept getting confused around the building, and kept apologizing over it, and he gave her no tip at all because that's what she "deserves" for being so "stupid" and because the food "wasn't good" and that was somehow her fault. (Food was no different than usual. He just wanted to find another way to tear her down, so he invented something. She clearly was trying her best but was very obviously nervous and getting more nervous as time went on.) It just kind of baffled me that whether or not he got the best "service" meant he could treat someone poorly because of it. My parents were both rude to her even before we got our food because she wasn't exactly sure where our table was at and took slightly longer than the regular waitresses to get to our table. It's like they picked up on her nervousness and decided she'd be an easy target to be an asshole to more than they were genuinely upset at anything going on. I felt so bad for her. And for people who are always rude at places in public and try their best to not tip, they don't understand how to get deals at all. I once had lunch with my family some years back and my mom ordered the food at a place I said I liked for delivery. Not only did she not tip the deliveryman on an $80 order, she somehow managed to find something wrong with everything, and then she bitched about the price and how there were "no deals" for what they got. I told her next time to let me do the order for her and do carryout since she's too cheap to tip. Order cost like half that instead when I ordered the same amount of food. She still claimed the food was bad though, as did my brother because the cheese tastes slightly different from the cheese at some other place so he literally could not eat the whole large pizza he demanded for himself and claimed it wasn't a "real" cheese pizza. What. (BTW he has had this pizza before from that place and never had issues then. But once my parents started on about how this or that was "not good", he joined in and claimed he couldn't eat a whole pizza that he has tried before and eaten with no issues because it was "not like X brand".) It's like they invent reasons for things to be bad, and waste money. They pretty much threw away most of the pizza and chicken ordered. Interestingly, there was nothing wrong with the food I ordered. Huh. I wonder why. Like with food, vacations were the same. Anything at all that should have been "fun" or a "treat" was always bad. Any normal event somehow got fucked up and became a big scene. Over nothing. Even school events, gotta fuck that up. If they went to them. I remember in elementary school, we had this fall festival at school at the fourth elementary school. It was pretty neat. There was a pumpkin patch where you could buy cheap pumpkins for carving, games with spooky-themed candy and toy prizes, bobbing for apples, a haunted house, crafting making. You know, lots of fun stuff for kids. You were supposed to come in costume and the whole event was free except for the pumpkins. My brother and I got to go once, even though he went to that school for K-5th grade and I went from 4-5th grade. The whole time, my parents would not let me play with my friends at the events. My parents wouldn't buy me a costume "so early" (mid-October) and potentially let me "ruin" it before Halloween, so I came in my normal clothes while everyone else was in costume. They wouldn't buy me a pumpkin because they were "too expensive" (but later bought ones from Walmart at triple the price) and my dad wasn't going to "carry them around" and we'd clearly "drop them and break them and waste all their money". They wouldn't let me go in the haunted house because it clearly "looked dumb and not scary" and my dad didn't want to bother with it but also wouldn't let me go by myself or with my brother. I was really upset with this because I knew some of my friends had a hand in making the haunted house and I wanted to see what they did. I think I got to try maybe two games? My dad made a beeline for musical chairs because they were giving away prizes for parents. We had to wait while my parents played that and won nothing. When they came away empty handed, they made us go home and ranted on the whole trip back about how awful the festival was and how the fall festival at the third elementary school was better. Yeah, and there's a story to that too. We also only went to their fall festival once, even though I attended that school for three years and they held this festival every year in October. We went when I was in second grade after I convinced them to let me go. Again, they wouldn't let me dress up even though it was encouraged. They had basically the same kinds of things at it as the fourth elementary school, but a little more because they had more space for it. What happened? No pumpkin for me. That's too expensive. Not even a little one that was like 10 cents that I could keep in the goody bag I was carrying. Got to play maybe one or two games. Wasn't allowed to hang out with my friends. Wasn't allowed to go into the haunted house because my dad didn't want to bother with that. The bulk of the time was spent at the musical chairs event where my parents tried to win prizes for themselves. Once it was over and they won nothing, we immediately left and they spent the ride home bitching about how stupid the festival was and a waste of their time and how nobody had any fun at it. It was literally the same thing. Same type of festival, same type of events, same string of actions occurring, and same end result. Because it was so "stupid", I was not allowed to go the following year. The same damn thing. And yet they proceeded to try and convince me this time in second grade was somehow completely different than the one in fourth grade. They even made up stuff that wasn't there to show how much "better" it was. Double the size even! (It definitely wasn't.) I came home with so much candy! (I didn't, my bag was mostly empty.) That's another thing. Everything is good in the past, everything now is bad. Or something bad in the past is permanently bad forever. There was this thing my dad had with restaurants. He always had this thing about finding the "perfect" Mexican restaurant, super "authentic", etc. When I was a kid, we hopped from a few until he decided one was "real" and "perfect" because they had a sombrero on the wall or something. We ate at practically no other restaurant for years until he suddenly decided the place was "ruined", then we hopped restaurants again until he finally settled on one for a little while, then it was quickly "bad", and we ended up going back to the original one a few times, until he went back to the other one again. Then we moved, he hopped restaurants for a while until he picked this one. This became his favorite restaurant out of all restaurant types for years and we practically went nowhere else if we went out to eat. Then, abruptly it was "bad", and he hopped around again, all where bad until he found one he temporarily liked, then it was quickly "bad", and we went back to the other place. Then he had a phase where he was obsessed with this one Japanese steakhouse for years until it was suddenly "bad", then he went back to the main Mexican restaurant for years until suddenly one day it was "ruined". Then he hopped around until he was back at the temp one again, until it was quickly "bad" again and he went back to the other one. Then he had a new temp favorite after that one was bad again, but now he's back to the main one again, last I heard. This would all happen really abruptly. Like years of praise, then one minor thing goes wrong and he cannot be in that building again for at least a full year. What. So dramatic. Sorry if that sounded really confusing. He'll have a phase where a certain pizza place is the best for years, then it's suddenly bad out of the blue one day and he won't touch it for years too. He has some other weird patterns with specific brands and places. He claims he only wears Levi jeans because nothing else fits him and Levi's are the best. He'll tell you this while wearing jeans that are clearly not Levi's. He always spent a shit ton of money whenever he went clothes shopping because he'd try and buy only specific brands and only the most expensive items of those brands, so my mom just left him at home and bought him the items he needed from the clearance sections of stores from the same styles as whatever he wore. If they were shoes, she'd put them in his old shoe boxes and claim they were the new shoes. With clothes, she'd remove the price tags and all that. He'd never notice nothing was what he claimed he always wore. NEVER ONCE. I don't know what kind of delusion that is that you can't read the label on your own clothes because you're so convinced you literally only wear a specific brand so of course that's what you're wearing. This also extended to food brands. He claimed there was only one brand of beans you can ever use in chili for it to taste good (even though he never really cooks except to put on a show occasionally that he's a "better" chef than everyone in existence) and my mom just told him that's what was in it while buying Great Value canned beans. He never realized until she forgot to throw away the cans immediately and he saw them. He was convinced that day that the chili was disgusting when that's the kind of beans she always used before. Since I started up this entry, I've remembered some other things. So, this probably seems benign but it was really weird in my memories. Like just a little off. So, my parents were really obsessed with tickling me and my brother when we were kids. Which seems pretty normal. But they would keep doing it way too long. Like it became really uncomfortable and I was crying and shouting please stop and they'd say, "but you're laughing, you like it!" and after I'd finally manage to worm my way away from them, I'd just burst into tears and be really angry at them. Then they'd yell at me for being dramatic. This happened with my brother too. Then they'd either get really mad and yell at me or try to grab me again to tickle me more. But yeah, they kept telling me I was lying about not liking it because I "laughed" before. Yeah, that's the thing with being tickled. It makes you laugh. That's not something you can really control. My dad would also still try to "catch" us when we got older to try and tickle us, especially me even when I was past eighteen. I found it really creepy at that point. I don't know. Like there's nothing inherently disturbing there, but it feels like it's part of this overarching thing somehow. I don't know. I'm just recording this here for now to see if there's anything else tied to this I remember later. I know sometimes I was in my underwear when this happened. I'm not sure about in a towel...that sounds right but I might be misremembering. And sometimes my clothes got moved around into uh...suggestive ways, but that may have been on accident. I can't really tell, given the other things I can remember what may be benign and what may be him doing something weird under the guise of something benign. About 1994, I remembered something else. After what happened with my mom, I remember feeling really guilty for days, if not weeks about what I saw happen and how I didn't do anything about it. I haven't thought about this in so long I forgot what my reaction was actually like. But when I was thinking back on it recently, I was able to recall some details I previously forgot about. I guess because I could think about it more clearly instead of as emotionally charged as last time. So, the days after that happened, I debated with myself about calling the police to report my dad for rape and battery. But my mom seemed "fine" and "normal" around him afterwards and I was afraid if I called, they police wouldn't actually do anything or my mom would deny it and thus nothing would come of it, and then I'd be severely punished for calling in the first place. I was really terrified of what my dad might do to me if the police didn't take him away immediately. But I also felt guilty and morally obligated to report him. Some thoughts that ran through my head that night and the following days after. Not 100% exact. I'm paraphrasing as this was a long time ago, but these were the things I debated with myself about. "Maybe I misunderstood what happened. Maybe that's what sex normally looks like." "But she was screaming no and he was hitting her and yelling at her. She kept screaming. Those were screams of fear. That isn't normal. You're not supposed to hit your wife." "But what if I'm still wrong somehow? What if I'm remembering this wrong? What if I'm overreacting?" "He'll hurt me too." "If I report him, maybe everything will be good again." "She hates me too." "Yes, but maybe she won't hate me if he's not here." "She won't pick me over him. She'll lie for him. They'll believe him. They won't believe me. I'll be next." "If I don't report him, I'm a bad person." "What does it matter if they don't do anything? Then all I'm doing is making sure I'll get hurt. She'll probably beat me too for calling." "Maybe it never happened." "I know it happened. I walked in on it. It was still going on when I hid in my room." "Maybe it didn't happen. It's not real. It's a bad dream. I must have dreamed it." "But I know I wasn't sleeping." "Why isn't she reporting him?" "She'll never report him." "Why is she acting like everything is normal? What am I supposed to do?" I remember it wasn't that long after that when my dad was gloating about how he didn't "allow" my mom to say no to sex whenever he wanted it to another male relative. It was like the confirmation I couldn't deny. I was so upset just hearing that I ran to my aunt and begged her to take me somewhere else. She knew I was upset about something, but I wouldn't tell her what. Some other things. So, we moved into that second house around mid-summer of 1994. So, this happened somewhere between July-December 1994, but I'm not sure exactly when. I'd forgot we moved into that house then. For some reason, I kept thinking we moved in during 1995 and kept wondering how I remembered this incident in the second house, but then I remembered why I was thinking that. That was something my dad kept telling people--that we moved into that house in 1995 to prove some weird number thing. He claimed that every time he got a house, within a certain amount of time, my mom would demand we move and it needed to be the year 1995 for it to fit his weird scenario. Except that those first three moved (apartment to house 1, house 1 to 2, and house 2 to 3) were all his ideas. It was just some weird way to convince people she was bad somehow. I saw the papers a while back. It was 1994 when we lived in that house, as my memory suggested. This was before I got my second bed and my brother still stayed in a crib in their room and my dad used half my room for his own personal junk collection because their room was already full. I remember in this memory I was in that one bed, but I had the new bed spread by that point (the Jurassic Park one). I'm not exactly sure why I was awake. With that really high light switch in my room, I couldn't actually turn it off myself yet and the light was already off in my room. Maybe I went to pee or something? They were arguing before that point, but I don't remember about what. This was not the only time they got really verbally aggressive with each other that led to my mom screaming at some point while my dad kept yelling, but it happened behind closed doors. I couldn't see what was going on those other times. This stopped at some point, but I'm not sure when. Lastly, recently I went out to the area where I grew up as a kid for something college-related. I can eliminate Emory University as being tied to anything messed up. But I was able to recall some other things from being around there. (And I still can't eliminate Agnes Scott yet.) Druid Hills--I'm not sure what went on at this place, but being here brought up flashes of something I couldn't quite get the full picture of. Recently, I went on Google Earth to look up locations I recalled from my memories to see a general map of where various things happened at. I have a paper with all the roads and places listed for me to look back on. I couldn't find anything online about this, and who knows what the fuck may have happened since the memory is very blurry, but I'm listing these roads out: Leeland Rd Robin Rd Canary Ct Bluebird Rd So, this happened on Halloween when I was a kid, at sunset. This is a memory I haven't thought about in a long time but is always sort of in the back of my mind during fall and winter, especially around Halloween. The atmosphere of this memory is something I think on some level I'm always trying to recreate whenever I tell a horror story. I was riding with my grandparents in their trunk on Halloween evening, but I don't know why. I often spent a lot of time with my grandparents at times one of my parents really should have been around with me, sometimes for entire days and we went to really far off places. (Like +2hr drives to go to just a "store", where they'd leave me in the car the entire time.) Anyway, this was one of those days and we weren't that far off from the neighborhood. We passed the bank and it looked like we were going to take the back way to get back, but instead, my grandfather wanted to look at Halloween decorations around and he turned onto one of the roads nearby. Looking through Google Earth, though the landscape and some of the businesses around have changed, those four roads are the roads we went on before we went on our way back home. The first road we got on had to have been Robin Rd, and the last was Leeland Rd, which is a rather confused path leading to a dead end, so I'm not sure why he went that way. Everything was really...orange, as you might expect, but something felt really "off". My grandfather started telling this story about something happening involving some guy. I got the impression this was like someone in their late teens, but I'm not completely positive about this and the way him and my grandmother talked during this story sounded like they knew this guy. Maybe a classmate from way back in the day? Something happened with him and an adult, I think, maybe the guy's dad? Or that's what people thought. I can't remember the exact story now, just that it was really creepy and for a while, there were some rumors and speculations about some stuff after whatever it was happened. Maybe someone died? Anyway, that's not really the focus of this story. What was odd was my grandfather's reaction to telling this. As he told it, he seemed to be getting more and more confused while he was driving and we started going around in circle and he "couldn't remember" the way home. Looking on the map now, we were like really not far off from the neighborhood, 3/4 of those roads connect to each other and lead back out to the main road, which Leeland Rd is also on, and IIRC my grandfather has lived in that general area for decades. It was bizarre that he was getting "lost" and it was even more bizarre that he was getting lost in an area where any path would have very quickly led him back out. I really don't know how we ended up on Leeland Rd at all. I forgot about this but my grandfather used to have this fear of getting lost somewhere and this always seemed to crop up when he was going through little residential areas where it really wouldn't even matter. He would get really freaked out suddenly, like something really bad was going to happen but if we got lost on the interstate, he was totally fine and would find his way back no problem. I don't really know what that was about, but that was the first time I saw that happen. The other time this happened were from him missing a turn or reading directions wrong. This was the only time I remember this happening where there seemed to be absolutely no logical lead up to him getting lost in the first place. He just started telling this story about some guy from a long time ago and something happening and then everything was suddenly "confusing" to him. I don't know what happened there, but I wonder if it was something that deeply disturbed him? But yeah, I couldn't find anything about that. Who knows if whatever it was even has a record of happening. I don't know how old I was in this memory, but I know I lived in the second house at that point. So the earliest this could have happened was 1994, but I don't think it was then nor do I think it was the later years we lived there, in 1997 and 1998. (We moved summer of 1999.) I'm pretty sure this happened in either 1995 or 1996, but again, I'm not 100% positive on that. Either way, it was somewhere between 1994-1998. It's been driving me crazy for years trying to figure out where the hell we were at that night, but there it is. Don't know what the significance of this story was, beyond it leaving some kind of impression on me even though I can't recall the story itself at all, LOL. Who knows. Maybe they were just pranking me. I did want to still find it though, because these roads used to crop up in my nightmares sometimes and it's somehow "nice" knowing where the fuck those roads are actually at. There's a few more locations I need to figure out. There's at least two parks and a few neighborhoods. Last year, I had some dreams about locations I haven't had nightmares about since I was a kid and it dawned on me that I'd been to those places before. I know they're in Decatur, but I'm not quite sure where or why they were important. There was something else I thought about recently. It was a memory involving me and my aunt about a body in the woods. We were in the car with my mom and my grandmother going somewhere unusual and there was some kind of large, dead animal off the side of the road down in a ditch at the bottom where it became woods and both me and my aunt reacted to something my mom said about it. At the time, I had this memory of recalling a "body" in the woods. I'm not sure if this person was dead or alive, but I got the impression a sexual assault was involved. A body by a creek, in the woods, down a hill. That exact imagery, but I couldn't clearly see the body in my mind. I suddenly went really tense and when I looked at the dead animal, my mind kept playing tricks on me to see things that weren't there, like I was recalling something else. I couldn't tell you the age, sex, anything of the "body". Like the shadow man, all defining features were somehow "blocked". I noticed while this was happening to me, my aunt also looked really uncomfortable about something, but neither of us said anything after that point during the ride. We both sort of just sunk into our seats and avoided looking out the window while my mom and grandmother kept talking about random stuff. My mind kept thinking about this woods-creek-body thing, but I never really got anywhere with whatever the hell I was trying to remember. Is it me in the woods? Is it someone else? Why am I in this location? I don't know why my aunt was really reacting, but I knew she went quiet at the same time I did. "There's a body down there in the ditch. Look, down there in the woods." Even though it was quickly followed up with the kind of animal it was, she never went back to "normal" until we got back and neither did I. What the hell is that memory about? Who knows. Maybe we were thinking of completely different things. That memory (of being in the car) has been cropping up in my mind a lot lately. The last time a memory of something kept popping up like that, I eventually hit enough links to get to the bath memory. Maybe I'll remember whatever this woods thing was about. It's just really bizarre because wtf could that be? Maybe it'll be something benign like something really frightening but from a movie or a TV show and not like, real life. But there is something to this woods thing. It keeps showing up again and again. It's like one of those core things that crop up in dreams and memories. Something happened related to woods, and it was bad, but I don't know what, just like the memory in my room at the first house at night. Something bad happened there. I was thinking about that a lot recently, and I get this impression that the incident with the "shadow man"/my dad happened first, then there was the incident in 1994 with my mom, but whatever the woods is--that's the thing that caused my personality change and the sudden memory loss. I may be wrong, but it's just this weird feeling I have. Like that's what broke everything finally. I hope I'm wrong though. I hope there's nothing.