A New Devious Chapter

When I wrote my last post, we were still digging our way out from bin mountain.  Buried under piles and piles of decorations everywhere, wondering if our house would ever be livable again. What didn't come upstairs was the loaf pans ma had bought last year, which spawned the idea that I wouldn't get to have the cookiepocalypse.  I told her that I needed to see them in order to adjust my recipe for yield of exact loaves, as well as the cooking time and temperature. Since writing that post we've dug ourselves out.  The house is covered in Christmas, but surfaces can be found again, and Oliver is happy that he can run around.  I brought the bins downstairs, and stacked them away, and ma went poking about.  She said that she was looking for the pans, and pointed out a bag.  I looked, and immediately noticed that it didn't contain pans, but containers that she had purchased years ago, still wrapped up, for cookiepocalypse past. She looked around at the room with all of

Thanksgiving is done, and we're into December, and I'm finally now feeling ready for winter and the holidays.  Christmas has vomited all over the house, and we've dug ourselves out of the mountain of decorations.  I'm slowly trying to adjust for the lack of cookiepocalypse, and all the different baking that will happen this year (although I'm not looking forward to that having been forced on me, and Squishy has also voiced her disapproval). I've also been working to get ahead on a lot of things.  There are a lot of things I've been able to get ahead on, and try to get done in the next couple of weeks.  The pre-planning is strong, just in case I do some travelling over the new year, but I'm managing it all really well. I have to say, I'm still not looking forward to all the family and obligation of holidays, but I'm ready for winter, and the things I want to do.  I want to bake, and cook lots of warm comfort foods, and spend time under blanket

We're getting close to the holidays.  A time of hectic preparation, stress, and celebration.  It's also a time of routine, and tradition. I've gotten a pile of poor news in regards to the holidays lately, and it's shaking up some of my favorite parts of this time of year.  Removing the few things I take joy in, and making me look forward to the coming season even less than normal.  I've been told we aren't having Channukah at all this year.  Channukah starts just a few days before Christmas, and so my mom doesn't want to figure out how to do both, which means she just isn't.  It's upsetting, because I always prefer Channukah over Christmas.  It was always that holiday of less obligation.  When we invited everyone over, so we had some excuse to spend time together during such a busy period, and celebrate family and friends in the way the holidays should be, and without the obligation and forcefulness of Christmas.  Not having it is sad, and I will

I think I've mentioned on here for the entire life of this blog how my parents treat me, and even when in front of each other, it's almost encouraged.  Especially though, in the behaviors of my father.  I likely have a record counting several times a week of my telling Lux when my father shows abusive behavior towards me. Well, the other day I was having breakfast, and heard him yelling at my mom, in a very similar way that he does to me all the time.  When I went to take care of my dishes, he started blaming a ton of things on me that I hadn't done, and screaming at me for them.  When I started calmly saying I wasn't responsible for any of it, but was still starting to go through the motions to fix it, he cut me off, yelling at me to shut up, and how he was "sick of this constantly from such a bitchy piece of shit".  Because he was yelling it right in front of my mom, she couldn't claim she didn't hear.  Unfortunately, rather than flat out telling

I'm pretty sure I mentioned recently, that my parents were going to be out of town earlier this week.  Well, Lux didn't make it down for the visit to take advantage of the time, but I did what I could to make the most of it, which I'll discuss in the coming weeks. I did however, try to get as much done every day as I could, which included going out of my way to take care of the house however I could anticipate.  Squishy even commented on how much she liked the quiet of them being gone, and how involved she felt in the day when she got home. My parents called, and were talking to Squishy as they were on the way home.  She was talking about all the things we had done, and my mom asked why I was so much nicer when they were gone. When the call ended, Squishy repeated it all, as kids do, and I pointed out that it's a lot easier to be in a good mood, and do more, and go out of the way to do things when I don't have two people spending every day telling me I

Last weekend the gnome got married, to the girl he only wound up actually seriously dating because he got her pregnant three months after meeting her.  Squishy was involved in the wedding, so this was all I heard about from him for the longest time. A few weeks ago, while picking Squishy up for a visit, he scrolls through his phone, and suddenly gets pissy.  He was throwing a fit, because his niece got a tattoo.  Upset because she should have considered the wedding, and the sleeveless dress.  First, I told him that the artist she wanted may be very difficult to book, and he kept going.  Then, I stopped him, and asked how his wedding gives him agency over her body.  That he shouldn't care about tattoos on her body, because she is who they asked to be there, not her unmarked arm. He shut up, because he realized there was no winning. Moving a bit more forward, just after my birthday, ma's friend came over.  We all sat in the dining room talking, and ma mentioned the gnome ge

Last week Squishy, my mom, and I went down to Atlantic City to do some stuff before the gnome's wedding (more on this soon) when Squishy would obviously need to leave and be there.  It was stupidly hot out, but we did our wandering about, and had fun, and Squishy got a bit spooked for no reason, though admitted to enjoying herself. We grabbed some ice cream for the long walk up the boardwalk, and back to the car, though it wasn't enough to keep Squishy or my mom from melting in the heat.  While on the walk though, a younger girl actually stopped me to compliment my makeup.  Considering that I don't do the standard full beat most people do, I appreciated her noticing as she walked past. As she took a few steps away though, I heard ma quietly say in the most demeaning tone "Aw, the little hooker likes your makeup" as though she wasn't even a person. And I stopped her, in the sun, with my daughter right there. I told her that I didn't know what she di

I was sitting with my mother and her friend at the dining room table a while ago, and they were talking about random things, and the conversation somehow shifted to my brother's girlfriend's sibling, who is trans.  Yes, I know that is a long chain to say. And my mother always, always makes a thing of him being trans, and pushes the point of misgendering him.  She makes excuses, waffles words around, makes up terms, and does everything she shouldn't do. Her friend enables it, and then goes on about how it's not as bad as "those genderfluid people" and not understanding gender neutral pronouns. They compare trans people to cross dressers, and invalidate them if they haven't had bottom surgery, and a pile of other things.  I tried to suggest things that would make them misgender people less, and while receptive, I doubt they'll take anything from it. However, sitting there, I very nearly actually came out to them as Agender.  To say that the way t

I often have to encourage Squishy to speak up for herself, especially at home.  My parents follow that old mindset that they have say over people younger than them, and don't need to ever consider them ever. It's caused a ton of issues with Squishy's comfort and appearance, which I have needed to help with in secret more than I should have to admit to. The other morning, my mom, who is a hairdresser, called Squishy in while she was getting ready for school, saying there was something she wanted to do with Squishy's hair.  I knew it would likely be something she didn't like, just out of past experience.  A moment later, I heard Squishy asking about it, and my mom making statements like "I want this here" and "If you don't do this, I'm just going to cut your hair off".  And it's unfortunate, because they are so heavily ignorant to their own abuse that I can't speak up without also being targeted.  If I tell them that she needs

I know I said things would calm down after last month. I lied. In the last two weeks or so I've been completely insane with everything going on.  Two birthdays to prep for, one holiday (more on that soon) to get everything ready for, and keeping Squishy prepped for a ton of things in school now that her school year is winding to a close soon.  Art for books is being done, writing for my first cook book finally, crochet prep for Fusion, practicing dancing with swords, and a thousand other things. I feel like every day lately is a mad rush to see what I can actually fit into the day.  At the same time, I'm trying to juggle being present and giving people plenty of time, which I will always prioritize, because I would want them to do it for me if I needed it. It's a whirlwind, to say the least. Luckily, today is Easter, and while on one hand that means a lot of what I've done is now being utilized and I get to enjoy it, it also means that today after dinner, I ge

I get a lot of flak in my day to day for not sticking to the societal standard life escalator.  Partially because I had a lot of shit thrown on me early on which has made that less accessible, and also due to the fact that I have never been interested in that cookie cutter life plan.  It results in a lot of people asking if I'll ever be successful with anything, because to them, if I'm not following that life escalator, I'm not doing anything. But when you break it down, I succeed at so many things. For a year I've published at least one book every month, by myself.  Regardless of the money it makes, that requires a ton of work and self discipline.  I continue to work on this, with plans of doing even more in the future (which I am actively working on). I've survived abuse, with very little support.  Instead, when I speak up about abuse to my blood relatives, I'm met with more abuse.  I have learned to communicate and be a healthy partner the hard way, a

Last weekend was my mom's 60th birthday.  My father decided we were throwing a party because of that.  However, he has no idea how to do anything himself, so it turned into my mom explaining everything that needed to be done, and him being an asshole in the way he told everyone to do everything. This also turned into the week before and day of, me doing pretty much everything.  It's a good thing I'm caught up on books, and just had editing to do that week, because I felt stretched thin with how little my time actually belonged to me. At the same time, I've been trying to help Lux find a new place, taking time to hunt down options that looked like they were worth going to check out.  On the bright side, he did decide on a place that I can't wait to see in person, and help him make into a home.  Now we're going through the process of figuring out a timetable on that move. Back to this party though, my father decided to invite everyone he's ever talked to

This last year had a lot of new things.  In many ways, it inspired a lot of growth, in many positive ways.  I'm taking many steps towards becoming the person I want to be, and doing the things I want to do.  I fell behind in some things I'm not the happiest about, and it's caused to bad brainbugs. Overall, as much as this year has been difficult in many ways, It's been rather positive for me, thanks to the people in my life, and giving myself enough of a kick in the ass to keep going. And, for what might be near the first time, I feel myself dreaming about the future.  Nothing massive, but ambitious projects to encourage more growth, steps towards more independence, and a life I'm truly happy with.  In the past, I've always just kind of dealt with complacency in the idea that I would always be stopped.  That my blood relatives would always try to fuck me over and force me into their broken idea of what I need to do with my life.  It may not show, but damn if

I recently went about the process of replacing my IUD, which sported a ton of conversations with parents. More on the replacement later, because that's a long write up of its own. A few weeks ago, I scheduled a regular exam.  I had to go to a new office because my previous gyno had left her practice, and I wanted to take care of that before scheduling the replacement.  It also gave me a chance for a round of sti testing, which I hadn't done for a bit. Upon scheduling it, I was talking to my mom.  And here we go. First, was the conversation simply of having another IUD.  I have always.  ALWAYS.  Said that I didn't want kids.  I have been firm on that from my teens.  It has never at any point wavered.  While saying that I had wanted to simply maintain my method of birth control due to the ease of it, she of course had to bring up "Well if you ever change your mind you can have it removed". To which I mentioned my firm stance on not wanting any more kids,

I've been reading a lot of things lately about why people stay in abusive relationships, and how they wind up in them and such. All people who have their own reasons, and stories about things. It brought to mind that both of my siblings, as well as myself, have had abusive partners.  My brother is with one still, and my sister only isn't with one now because her current partner is completely dependent on her (I know those are not mutually exclusive, but he is legitimately afraid he would not survive without her care). And it gives me that absolute definitive proof that we grew up in an abusive situation.  We were raised that emotional abuse was normal.  That it was an aspect of love.  That just because my parents stayed together and were abusive toward each other, they would be abusive toward us and it was fine. They just assumed it was how things worked, and it's why they are nearing 40, and still in unhealthy relationships.  I fought from my daughter's age to

This last week meant both mine and Lux's birthdays have passed, and we're each another year older. While he's just another step into his thirties, I've now officially left my twenties. It's a good thing I still look twelve. Squishy asked me if turning thirty meant I had to become an adult.  By that she meant acting like a stuffy old person.  She seemed very upset with the idea.  It was rather cute. Lux's birthday I was home while he was out with friends, getting completely smashed.  Apparently, even though I was barely getting half sentences, he was damn near poetic with a handful of other people.  When he went and read back over a lot of it he wound up apologizing to me because of how he was acting with everyone else.  Had he not pointed it out and apologized after saying it, I probably would have gotten a bit upset, but this made it more funny than anything. He can always make it up to me later anyway.  I didn't even tell him that, and don't

Many of us around here often joke that Oliver is fat.  He's not, but to keep my mom from completely overfeeding him, we make the jokes, but don't put much behind it. Anyway, one day while making these jokes, my mom responded "Yea, well, I give him so much because I love him" And I had to choke down yelling at her.  That feeding him piles of things he shouldn't have isn't love.  That ignoring what he needs when he's saying so, encouraging poor behavior, and barely spending any actual time with him isn't love.  It's selfish convenience.  Like when she buys clothes for Squishy that she doesn't like, but then tries to force Squishy to wear them just because she likes them.  It's not love.  It's again being selfish, and incredibly inconsiderate. Love is taking on compromise.  It's doing things you don't always want to do (in a healthy way of course) in order to take care of people when they need it.  It's considering them

Makeup is one of the few things I actually do that is relatively femme.  I don't go crazy with it, and keep it incredibly simple compared to what a standard full face would be considered, but I am a bit picky with the products I use.  I'm incredibly determined to stick to the cheap drugstore brands though, because I fully believe they should make a product that fits what I want, since a lot of the time many high end brands will also have products with the same issues some cheaper products do.  And when it comes to things like my eyes, or lips, I have products I love. However, as I mentioned a bit ago, I'm so fair that face products barely exist that aren't too dark for me.  I have slowly been building a collection of foundations and concealers that are the lightest shade available, and are still too dark on me.  It's a very frustrating thing. So now, keep that in mind, because we're about to get to some funny stuff. A few days ago, while filling up my

After putting on my makeup to go run errands one day, I popped into the den to announce to my father that I no longer looked like a zombie.  He commented about how pale I look with foundation on to cover my freckles, and I mentioned that it's actually difficult to find foundation pale enough for me.  Which is true by the way.  Way too much makeup nerding here, but I am so fair, and with cool undertones, that even high end lines with upwards of 40 shades don't have something light enough for me that isn't yellow. However, that wasn't the conversation I had.  When I mentioned my difficulty to my father, instead of making a dumb joke that I should just buy white foundation or something, instead told me I need to go into the sun more until I can find a shade. My father told me that in order to have access to something, I need to change my skin color. In order to not get mad in that moment, I joked that bright red foundation is even harder to find. And in what shou

In the week of everything blowing up, my mom got a call from her brother for Channukah.  They caught up for a bit, and during that talk, he told her that he'd volunteered our house for a birthday party in April for both him and his twin brother.  Y'know, the physically abusive one, that I'd been promised I would never see again. You'd think given the promises made to me, and wanting to actually protect your own kid, my mom would have told him that my one uncle isn't welcome. You'd think. When I was told this, I brought that up.  My mother's response was simply "Well they decided." So, because they volunteered our house, and us to throw them a party, it doesn't matter that they're abusive apparently. I told her that I would find a way to be absent as soon as I found out the dates. She threw a huff, and said that Squishy was staying so she could see the one decent uncle. Except, I spoke to Squishy, and she repeated