Month: June 2017

The kindest letter I can muster up for my abusive mom

(Note: I don’t understand why the paragraph breaks aren’t showing up correctly… maybe I can fix it later, but I’m going to sleep right now.)

June 27, 2017
Happy 55th Birthday, Mom.
I remember 15 years ago, how stressful it was purchasing a gift for your 40th birthday, how important it was to me that I succeed in getting something you’d like. The fact that this is a milestone birthday number wasn’t lost on me.
How I, a 12 year old who’d only had my ears pierced for a little over a year at that point, shopped at a huge Jewelry Exchange place for the first time in my life and told my dad (your ex-husband) about your taste in always gold and not silver, how we (he) spent $100 on pretty earrings made of white gold with gold plating so it still didn’t look silver in color and…  and then when that weekend spent with my dad was over, when I was back home…  I waited with bated breath to see if it would make you angry because I’d failed at gift giving in some important way I’d overlooked.
You must not have liked your Mother’s Day gift 5 or so weeks prior because why else would I have been so determined to do this well this time? I’m not sure. Maybe I remembered a different gift thing you hated but it was probably Mother’s Day. I think I gave you little Hallmarks figurines of like a lighthouse and other things you’d see at the beach. Because despite how much i remembered you being unhappy at the beach the last time we ever went, when I was 8, you in the years since would comment that you liked the beach… you even wanted that “By The Sea” song played at your funeral
In the end, you smiled weakly in my bedroom when you opened your gift and said you liked it – without sounding like you meant it. And I thought that was the end of my feelings about giving you this gift. That the reaction happened,  and it was over.  It could’ve been worse,  it could’ve been so much worse, this was a pretty good reaction,  but I wanted to cry anyway, because I’d tried so hard but you still weren’t happy.
Literally nothing would make you happy, because you were in the midst of Persistent Depressive Disorder, but none of us knew that. Not my dad or me and my brother, not you.

I wrote a bunch of other stuff recounting the awful but I just hit “backspace” for a few paragraphs. I changed my mind. I want this to be… in a different tone.

I saw you for the first and probably only time I’ll ever see any glimpse of what you in your 50s looks like back in December at your mother’s funeral home visitation (my grandmother’s). It was so jarring seeing 54 year old you. Your hair was so much grayer. Your hair was shorter. You were wearing a shirt that actually looked pretty nice, I was surprised I liked your style.
I hadn’t seen you in 7 years. I haven’t even seen any new photos. My brother noticed your teeth looked decaying. He noticed your breath smelled like cigarettes. I didn’t notice these things. He even noticed you flip off the casket.
You came over to me, and my brother, and two of my younger cousins, including the 17-year-old one you later made burst into hysterical tears with some harsh whisper. Why did you do that to her? But sorry, I’m digressing. You came over to us and you called your mother abusive. You said she was an evil bitch. You asked the 4 of us to “Name one good thing about her. Just one!” and I felt so guilty that in that moment I couldn’t think of how to respond. I wanted to defend my grandmother. There were plenty of good things, I’d been mentioning them to people in the days before and after that moment, and other points that day when you weren’t there. I’d been hearing about them from others. But in that moment, when you asked me, my cousins were ignoring you on purpose and not taking your bait, being calm and reasonable about your scariness. I, on the other hand, was so hurt by everything about your presence, so outraged on behalf of my grandmother and on behalf of my cousins/aunts/uncles/the strangers who shouldn’t have to deal with you and everything else.
But you know who else I could say “one good thing” about, “just one”?
Well. You.

Continue reading “The kindest letter I can muster up for my abusive mom”

The Relief…

Imzy is shutting down. I want to preserve these little original writing things I did for the 100 words community so I’m reposting them here on my blog. The prompt at the time for this one was “Sweet”.


She never intended to actually drive us out of her life, but oh it happened anyway. My mom was yelling, I was crying, my brother was defending me, she was ignoring him, and the next thing we knew…

There was the sweet relief of freedom.

His hand broken from having punched the wall, my grandmother yelling at her daughter over the phone at 1:00 AM to stop calling – (we all needed to sleep, after all) – the many stressful, difficult things that were still to come…

None of that prevents this memory from being somehow fond in my mind.

Humor as coping mechanism

Imzy is shutting down. I want to preserve these little original writing things I did for the 100 words community so I’m reposting them here on my blog. The prompt at the time for this one was “Comedy”.


Sometimes humor is a reasonable coping mechanism. Finding a way to laugh at the trauma and pain means, well… maybe you’re doing okay despite everything. At least you’re able to talk about what happened.

Other times, though, the humor turns into a bad habit. Even when you don’t mean to make light of a situation, you find yourself chuckling. The people in your vicinity think you must not care, or at least that this isn’t a big deal to you. Even when it’s huge!

Sometimes, it hides your pain. Even from the people you were trying to reveal it to.

Falling

Imzy is shutting down. I want to preserve these little original writing things I did for the 100 words community so I’m reposting them here on my blog. The prompt at the time for this one was “Fall”.


In my life, there have been multiple instances where I’ve felt embarrassed – in fact, where I’ve felt lesser as a person! – simply because I had the misfortune of tripping and falling. Sure it makes sense to not want to fall. Literally being hurt in a physical way is, indeed, negative. Becoming skilled at avoiding injuring the only body we get is an important skill if we want to survive. But my instinctual first reaction? “Oh no; other people can judge me right now.” This shame seems illogical and problematic. I wonder… Do I shame others when they fall?

“Kissing, Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, etc!” – the May 2017 Carnival of Aces Round Up of all Submissions

(I’ve cross-posted this round-up to my tumblr as well, if you want to reblog it!) The “Carnival of Aces” is a blogging carnival where each month people are invited to write on a specific topic that is related to asexuality/the ace spectrum in some way. Aromanticism is often grouped in as a thing to talk about as well, or even just “instead”, if desired. 😉

Check out the masterpost of all of the other amazing topics previous carnivals have been on: https://asexualagenda.wordpress.com/a-carnival-of-aces-masterpost/

April 2017’s was on “Aromanticism, Asexuality and Parenthood” and received 5 submissions (see all the way at the bottom of that post for some of them) – it was hosted by Ettina over at Abnormaldiversity.

For this current month, May, this was the fourth time that I hosted the carnival, and once again it was a big success! Thank you to ALL of you who submitted.

I tried to choose a broad topic:

Kissing, Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, etc!

and the “etc” was important and part of it too, I swear lol. Feel free to go back to the call for submissions if you’re curious for what I suggested and explained the topic to be.


This month, 10 different people turned in posts, and 1 of those people did their submission in two parts.

One other person claimed not to have enough to say in order to write a post for the Carnival but did write a great paragraph response on their thoughts on the topic and gave me permission to include it here as well. (So you’ve got 12 links to click. )

I’ll (sort of) try to group them by theme:


We’ve got the general replies to thoughts on the whole Carnival.

Lib at is the person who didn’t turn in a post but whose thoughts near the beginning of their A “Catch Up” Post I felt would be good to share with you all. Most of that blog post is unrelated to the Carnival, but near the beginning there is a paragraph that sums up Lib’s feelings on most displays of affection:

https://acubedblog.wordpress.com/2017/05/27/a-catch-up-post/

Isaac at mundo heterogéneo wrote this month about his thoughts on all three things in the title of the theme — kissing, holding hands, and bed sharing:
https://heterogen.wordpress.com/2017/05/31/my-thoughts-on-kissing-holding-hands-and-bed-sharing/

Blue Ice-Tea over at Ace Film Reviews wrote Growing Up Platoniromantic: Kissing, Hand-Holding, Bed-Sharing, etc.

https://acefilmreviews.wordpress.com/2017/05/27/growing-up-platoniromantic-1/

Continue reading ““Kissing, Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, etc!” – the May 2017 Carnival of Aces Round Up of all Submissions”

Kissing Aversion, but Demi-Sensual About Other Touch

This is my entry for the May 2017 Carnival of Aces, which I hosted and chose to theme around “Kissing, Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, etc!”. The round-up of all 12 submissions that month can be found here. I’m sorry this post is so long. I’m sort of overflowing with thoughts. Also this was written in one sitting late at night so please feel free to point out errors. This was cross-posted to my tumblr as well.


I don’t feel like I need touch in my life much at all, most of the time.

That being said, I have the ability to really like it. In a kinda demi-sensual kind of way, if that’s a thing. (I’m 100% asexual, no grayness there, no sexual attraction, but if I have a lot of trust-feelings for you, like a LOT of positive feelings about our relationship, then there is a pretty good chance I’ll like touch.)

I am comfortable but fairly neutral with touch when it comes to me and small children. (They can still cross boundaries that make me uncomfortable, such as making me take off my glasses and then I feel overly vulnerable, which kind of happened to me a week and a half ago with a 3 year old in my extended family lol.) I don’t crave touch from small children – I crave other types of attention from children, I want to make them happy, I love the emotional reaction they can have to me at times, but I’m not overly touchy feely unless they initiate it. I am much more comfortable holding babies than holding any animal though.

With people who are peers though, fellow young adults, or from older family members… I can have positive associations with touch!

Continue reading “Kissing Aversion, but Demi-Sensual About Other Touch”