volatile-calcatrix:

“time for an afternoon nap” I whisper as I go into hibernation and awaken in the year 2037

barackfuckingobama:

I bet Spiderman left New York City for a day trip and when he came back, he saw the catastrophic aftermath of The Avengers and he was like

“I WAS GONE FOR ONE DAY. ONE DAY.” 

fuckyeahtomate:

fuckyeahtomate:

OMG WHY IS THERE AN ICE CREAM TRUCK OUTSIDE AT 9PM

OH MY GOD NOW I HEAR GUNSHOTS

THAT ICE CREAM TRUCK DIDNT BRING DELICIOUS CREAMY TREATS IT ONLY BROUGHT FEAR

The dictionary defines

1. Emotional Abuse: The debasement of a person’s feelings that causes the individual to perceive himself or herself as inept, not cared for, and worthless. [1]

2. Verbal Abuse: A form of emotional abuse consisting of the use of abusive and demeaning language with a spouse, child, or elder, often by a caregiver or other person in a position of power. [2]

3. Emotional abuse/Mental abuse: A form of mistreatment in which there is intent to cause mental or emotional pain or injury; PA includes verbal aggression, statements intended to humiliate or infantilize, insults, threats of abandonment or institutionalization; PA results in stress, social withdrawal, long-term or recalcitrant depression, and anxiety. [3]

That being said, does anybody have any advice on how to deal with being accused of being something & doing things (being a con-artist, being a “scamming sponge, and other such asinine rhetoric) that you are not and did not do, repeatedly, on a regular basis?

Here’s the situation:

I crumbled under the stress of a recurring depression during my first year of college, and only passed a handful of my courses.  Because of this unfortunate pitfall of mine, which is entirely my fault, I am being threatened with being thrown out of my house by my mother’s controlling alcoholic boyfriend.

He’s accused me of being a con-artist, a scammer, a sponge, a piece of shit, and a selfish freak. He screams at me on a daily basis, that I’m a head-game playing manipulative liar who’s only primary interests are those that are self-serving.

What makes this situation utterly ridiculous is the fact that I am none of those things, and not matter how much I try to defend myself, he always convinced my immediate family that I’m all the things he says I am.

I recently got a job to save for college, and am upping the dosage on my antidepressants, to try and work through my problems so I don’t fail like a moron at college this up coming year.

He says that that whole situation is my “con” to sponge a free living arrangement from my “spineless mother” (his words), and to curry fraudulent sympathy from my relatives.  Whenever I visit with my relative, upon returning home, I am accused of slandering him to them.  He claims to have heard with his own ears, the things I have said to them, because they tell him, but not ONCE, has any of this so called “proof” been, you know, actually fucking PROVEN beyond a reasonable doubt.

He gets drunk and barges into my room, screaming that my grandfather told him that I’m a useless piece of shit and that they should kick me out to live on the streets.  He tells me that my relatives hate me and agree with him about everything he tells them, about how I’m a “manipulative psychotic sociopath.”

He smashes dishes, spits in my face (as well as my two younger sisters).  When my mother speaks up and says, “Sam never said that, Peter”, he LOSES IT. He screams at her for “enabling my lying bullshit”.

Just a few minutes ago, I was accused of calling my youngest sister’s grade 9 home economics teacher a bitch.  How would this ridiculous assumption ever bubble up at all? Well, my sister told her teacher, “my sister said you’re a bitch,and she’s right” to her teacher, and got suspended.

It was my other sister who is only two years older than the youngest, who had said that.  My youngest sister, of course, repeated it, like the instigating coward she is.

But how did this come to be about me?

(Keep in mind, I am EIGHT years older than the youngest at FOURTEEN, and don’t even know WHO her teacher is! I’ve never met her, or talked to her, at all.)

My mom’s boyfriend is yelling, saying he “knows what he heard” and what he heard was ME calling her a bitch in this house, and that’s why it’s my fault for the youngest repeating it and getting suspended.

I calmly went up to him and stated, “Peter, I don’t even know her teacher.  I’ve never met her, and she wasn’t a teacher there when I was a student there.  Yesterday, when Jennifer went to get Amanda’s homework from her teacher, and the teacher was rude to her, she came home, and said that Miss Blocked-out-for-privacy was a bitch to her.  That’s what happened.”

“I KNOW WHAT I HEARD! LIAR! SEE EV, SHE’S DOING IT AGAIN!” he screams and turns to me, screaming and spraying spit in my face as he does, “SHE’S A SCAM ARTIST! A LIAR! SHE NEEDS TO GET OUT!”

“YOU THINK I’D BELIEVE ANYTHING YOU SAY?! YOU AND I ARE ON THIN ICE, AND THE NEXT FOUR MONTHS ARE GOING TO BE VERY MISERABLE FOR YOU IF YOU KEEP UP YOUR BULLSHIT!”

So I went into my room, which, unfortunately, is right next to hers.  All I hear from the other room is this.

Him: I WANT HER OUT, GET HER OUT.
Her: How is she supposed to work and save for college if we kick her out on the street?
Him: ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! SHE DOESN’T CARE ABOUT COLLEGE, SHE’S SCAMMING YOU! “OH I WONDER HOW MUCH I CAN SCAM THIS SUMMER!”. SAVE FOR COLLEGE, WHAT A FUCKING JOKE! YOU SHOULD JUST DO WHAT HER GRANDFATHER SAID AND KICK HER OUT SO SHE CAN GROW THE FUCK UP! SOMEBODY WILL BE LEAVING TONIGHT, AND IF SHE DOESN’T LEAVE, I WILL.

(Keep in mind that some of this is paraphrased slightly, but there are no exaggerations to what’s being said.  Some of the syntax might not be the same as the actual conversations that went on, but that’s because I don’t have a %100 verbal recall abilities at my disposal.  Everything is written to the most honest facts of my recollections).

This has been going on for three and a half, almost four, years now, and I can’t deal with it for much longer.  Nothing I do is good enough, and everything I do is wrong.

If I work all day, do chores at home, and decide to spend an hour playing a game or going on the computer, the shit storm stars up again about how I’m disrespectful, ungrateful, a user, and a lazy bitch.  Simply for taking that hour.

I could be famous, I could find the cure for cancer, and he’d still rip me down and step on me like an ant.

I even get yelled at WHILE doing chores, for, get this, *NOT DOING CHORES.

*SEE REDUNDANT

On a side note to this, he does the same thing to my two younger siblings, both of whom have expressed a desire to commit suicide because of the way he treats them. All three of us share this in common, and our mother still won’t listen to us, or anybody else for that matter.

She will agree with whatever he says, but will say he’s an asshole when he’s not around.  If anybody else says it, she gets extremely defensive and hostile towards the accuser.  *She tells me, and numerous others, that she’s sick of all the bullshit (fighting, etc), but then turns around and blames it all on her kids (mostly me).  *See link for a similar situation

She’s always been like this with boyfriends, even the guy she dated for a week who turned out to be a paedophile targeting her youngest child.  When he was exposed, and they broke up, she blamed me for him leaving her.

It doesn’t help that she’s also a depressed drinker, who clings to abusive boyfriends, and then throws us under the bus to keep her shallow relationships alive in the face of a choice, it’s either them or me.

I can’t deal with it anymore.

I know I was a shitty person 2/3 years ago, and I know that I was a huge bitch.  I don’t need my past lorded over me by someone who can’t even control their own vice, when I had courage to admit and seek help for mine. I don’t need to be berated and insulted for who I was, when I made strides to change my past’s ugly attitude, when they haven’t changed at all in the past 3 and a half years.  In fact, they’ve gotten WORSE, and I guess, somehow, that that’s my fault, now isn’t it?

Just like everything else that goes wrong in his life, it’s my fault.  It’s my sisters’ faults.  We’re the reason their life is the way it is? I’m sorry? But last time I checked, we’re not responible for your personal happiness.  If you’re a miserable, tainted person, then that’s YOUR PROBLEM, and it’s YOUR CHOICE to be that way.

I make no exception here for myself, I may have been severely depressed those few years ago, but being a huge prick to everyone is my own fault, and I owned up to it.  I apologized, I worked out my problems, and I bettered myself!

You just kept spiralling down into a vortex of hate and blamey-wamey bullshit.

I am NOT your conviently located personal punching bag.
I am NOT your first resort scapegoat.
I am NOT your reason for being a miserable PRICK.
I do not make your choices, and I don’t owe you ANYTHING. 

Sure, you’ve done nice things for me, but at what cost?  Everything nice you ever did for me, wasn’t to help me.  Every nice thing you did, that I thanked you for, you use against me now.  You bring up every instance of gift giving and meal making as a cursed burden, a personal front, that you had to endure.

You never let anybody hear the end of anything, even years after it’s done.  You don’t just beat a dead horse, you drag it through the streets, shouting at the top of your lungs whilst banging your chest like King Kong and blowing off shotgun blasts into the night sky of a quiet neighbourhood.

You’re like Paul Revere, but instead of the misrecorded, “The British are coming! The British are coming!”, your tale is more like a whining edition of chicken soup for the first-world white person who thinks they have it so hard, “I have clean drinking water, access to a running vehicle, a television, and a safe habitat, but god forbid if someone doesn’t get quite all the egg off the spatula!”.

Because then, right then, it turns into a personal war.  Everything we do is considered a personal attack against you.  Why are you so insecure?  Is it because you dissapointed your father, or because you mother liked your other siblings better?  Is it misplaced jealously for your brother?  Or is it a hatred of females stemming from your disdain for your twin sister?

Because no matter what it is, I’m assuming you’ll blame me for it.

Because I’m a omnipresent, telepathic, time-travelling, sociopathic monster, hell bent on burning that poison soul right through your brittle, hollow bones, and out of that tainted rotting meat suit.

Irrational Fears

It’s going around, so I might as well type some stuff up.

- Open doors/unlocked doors.  If I’m in a room, I have to have the door closed (and usually locked).  I can’t sleep if my door in unlocked, let alone open.  If I see an open door, I’ll close it, whether or not anyone’s in the room or not.

- Bugs/insects/parasites touching my body.  I’m especially paranoid about bedbugs and head lice.  Every couple of months, I’ll go through an episode of panic, because for some reason, I become convinced I had both of them. I can’t sleep, and I have anxiety attacks.  I also really don’t like bugs in my house.  If a bug’s in my house, I lock myself in my room or I got insane by spraying insecticide around all the door and window frames.

- Not being able to breathe/being stuck in small places.  These two are part of the same fear.  I’m worried that I’ll suffocate under my covers/under water, and feel that I’m running out of breath when I’m wearing headphones.

- Getting fired.  No matter how much reassurance and positive feedback I get from my employers, I am always overly anxious that I’m fucking up, and will get fired for it.  I fear that everything I do will be seen as sub-par, and will result in my termination.

- Turning my back on staircases and mirrors in the dark of night.  My back always tenses up, and I feel as if some devil is going to snake around me and drag me down into the depths of hell.  I run up stairs really fast to turn on a light.  I will walk backwards into rooms in the dark so I don’t have to turn turn my back on the darkness.