Dictionary

I am truly tired of being called a whore and a slut.

—->Whenever I ask a question or bring up a problem to my family,

My father or brother call me a whore or a slut. <—-

My father has been calling me and others names for years so……did my brother learn it from him OR did my brother just decide that this will be his revenge,  call a woman who disagrees with you these horrible names.

Well I am truly tired of being called a whore and a slut.

AND, not without surprise, I actually have video proof ( thankful to a friend ), a video which shows my brother doing things with women that would make you go blind. —> while he (my brother)  was married to his pregnant wife,( and he had a little child), he was online with other women.  The pregnant wife had the computer “bugged”  -> so the joke is on him.  Let me see, in the dictionary,  all the words comparable to  “joke” and “oops” and “you got caught”.

But I am the slut?  I am the whore?  Can you imagine the answer if I would ask this question to my father and my brother?  Oh wait, I’m sure they have a lie to cover themselves in their Book of Lies, which lays aside their Book of Bad words to call women.

One of many conclusions:

 

So ,  this paragraph ( photo below ) comes from a relationship site.   But I posted it here,  as I am the Bean who had to raise a new born baby in a basement, in 1 room. So I feel I am entitled to use it for my own reference.

I never knew what gaslight meant before I was given all these sources of information.  What I have realized in the past 2 years of coming about with my family discoveries,  is that the more I uncovered the truth, the more I was called names and told I was bad and crazy and what is wrong with me?  How could I say these things?  Fake court orders and death threats were thrown at me – by my own family – because  I was telling the truth.

I was asking questions about my childhood and about the horrible things that my siblings were plotting, still to this day.  I wanted nothing to do with their bad decisions, yet for some reason they used me, thinking I wouldn’t find out or care.  But I believe you get to a breaking point and you say… that’s it.  No more.

Funny how the bad people have become the victims and the good person is berated.

Well now I see, looking at this article, the bad people have to redeem themselves, so hey, let’s bad mouth the truth giver.

But that’s okay.  It’s not so great right now, but  haven’t lied about anything. I haven’t deserved or asked for all the bad things that have happened to me for the past 59 years.   So I will be okay.

Now I applaud the gaslighters.  They think they are smart and are good at covering up the truth.  But the truth is pretty strong.  Although they can light me and burn me to others, the truth is not flammable.  Sorry gaslighters, Sorry dad and brother and others …  but you are on the bad side.   If there were 2 sides of the Earth, the good and bad, they would be on the bad side.

gaslight1

I never realized you can judge how someone says Thank You!

Not sure if I mentioned this in my previous posting’s ,  but my dad ( or man that I guess help create me as dad doesn’t fit him in any way )  and his wife gave me and my six siblings each 10,000.00.  This puzzled me as I knew my dad never had any money.

When my  dad ( or man that created me ) left our family over 40 years ago,  I doubt he ever paid child support because in reality, how does one pay child support for 7 children?  That would be hard for the richest man.  So he didn’t I’m sure.

I never asked my dad for money and he never offered it.  So this was indeed surprising.

Later I would learn that the money came from his wife Pat’s parents farm that was sold after they passed away.  So the money basically is not from my dad, which I figured.

But this posting is not about the origin of the money.  It is about the thank you’s.

After speaking with my siblings I found out my dad ( or man that created me ) compared our “thank you’s” to whose was best.  And he brought up the best one,  the child who actually had tears, to all of us.

Now please tell me,  what dad does that?  In reality?   Who judges and rates a thank you?

BTW, the sibling who had tears was thousands and thousands of dollars in debt and abandoned his own children.. so there you go with the reason of the tears.

I thought my thank you was nice and heartfelt to a man who did nothing to help me at any time in my teen to adult life.  I think he had to pay for me when I was a child because he could get in big trouble with the relatives and such if he didn’t .

So again in my 58th year, another abusive chapter in my life that comes from my father ( or man who created me ).  This blog is read by an awesome family therapist who sometimes has tears of her own because she can’t believe what we have endured all our lives.

A memory to forget

I remember this so well.  It outshines any good days I might’ve had with my mother.

I think my mom did these things because either she was selfish for her own time being she was oblivious to knowing what having 7 children  would do for her personal time, or she was just mean and I never knew it.  Or even, that my dad treated her like dirt so she was spreading the dirt unto others.

The event I am writing about today has to do with friends on vacation.

Everyday, and I mean everyday, during the summer months I played outside. From morning til night.  I disliked the sunset because I wanted to stay out and play with my friends.  They were awesome friends.  There was one day during the summer that they weren’t around.

I had an old desk in my room that I got from some really nice people.  I filled that desk with books and color by number drawings.  I think this was a good day to work at my desk as no friends were in sight.

But my mother had other ideas for me.  She wanted me out!  “Outside, get outside and play, it’s nice out there.”  she bellowed.  She only bellowed when my dad wasn’t around. I suppose because it wasn’t flattering.

So in my mind I am thinking,  I am around today ( I was about 10 years old ).  Maybe some fun mother / daughter time, as I’ve seen with my friends.  We could clean together, maybe watch television together, maybe bake cookies together, maybe go out and walk together.   But no.   My mother made me go out into our backyard alone and stay out there.

I waited an hour, in that backyard, just standing and, I think, talking to myself.  Making stories about the grass or flowers.  I went back inside and she told me “not enough time, get back out there.” I think it was then that I knew I wasn’t really a daughter. Only by proper standards as she did give birth to me.  I think I was one of my mom and dad’s errors.  Now they had to pay for me and clean after me and buy me some clothes and food.  It was this day I realized that.  But I had many years left to live with them, so I pretended I didn’t know the truth.

I pretended to be their daughter and silently watched how they abused myself and my siblings…

Peace full years

always wondering and hoping they would stay away.

but weddings, funerals, social events brought them back.

watching everyone act as if nothing happened at least made me laugh a bit.

so I would make it through.

But then my nars father joined facebook and friend requested people he had written out of his life years ago.

watching everyone act as if nothing happened at least made me laugh a bit.

 

The Victim is always the one to blame

When it comes to knowing a narcissist,   no matter if this person is a parent, a spouse, a sibling,  ->>> that person is always the “nice” one.  Never did anything to anyone. Why are you alerting us to this person’s actions?

The victim is the only one who cares about the narcissist well-being.  No one else listens.

The victim is the villain.  Every time.

I am so thankful, hope they know….

After being so mixed up for 17 years:  I had 4 children.

The most amazing part for me, they were born normal, smart and perfect.

Never any trouble.  I contained the whole plate of trouble.  And they were perfect.

I know most mom’s say their children are the best,  but in this blog, it is totally true.

I hope they know how thankful I am for this.   Not so much for me, but so they could live

awesome lives.  I never want anyone to go through what I have.  Continuous,

No End

 

I was wild child I suppose, my high school years. If we had stayed in Chicago, I wouldn’t have been this wild drunk socially inept teenager. My friends in Chicago had awesome high school memories and friends and families. Now I had this small town where there was a keg of beer at every corner. Drink and party were the themes. My dad moved us to this small town. My parents didn’t care if I was out until 3:00am. Or what man I was with. In Chicago this wouldn’t have happened. I thought my parent’s moving us was the reason, but…it was that they didn’t care. How funny that my conclusions were wrong when the benefit of the doubt went to my parents. Now that my conclusions are correct, finally, I believe my parents could be in trouble with the court system, for child neglect.

Father of the Brides… My dad blew up at my wedding reception, in front of all my family and friends. He did at my sister’s wedding reception as well. None in my family or that town thought that was abnormal. What daughter wants that memory of her wedding. My parents chose to have the reception at their home, to save money I suppose, yet they couldn’t handle it. Again, humiliated. That town is heartless, to think any of this was acceptable.