@Anita: Your confusion is completely understandable. I get confused with my own feelings a lot, even.

But I think a lot of what I say/feel relates with what’s currently going on in the household. I’ll use a few of the quotes you mentioned to add a timeline to everything.

“I would tremble with dread when he got home. I knew what was coming.” Here, I’m referring to a little over 2 years ago, when the abuse was daily, and directly to my face. He would go on for hours (roughly 4pm to 8pm), picking on me, in front of my mother. I wasn’t expected to do anything besides sit there, and take it. Laugh along, even. So, I was decently afraid, during those times. Not to mention that this was before I had told anyone anything about what I was going through, and before I had a counselor, or any way to really cope. Not that I’m saying how I “cope” now is beneficial in any way, but back then I did nothing but play some catchy music, and curl up in a ball.

“at times I’ve stacked up a few full boxes in front of (the door), just in case (he enters)” This statement was also referring to a while ago, when I didn’t know him as well. I’ve already witnessed physical abuse, and there was no telling if it was going to happen again.

“I spend about 23 hours a day in my room…” and “I had to hide until there was a clear way to my bedroom.” These are from my first post. The commotion in the house had just hit another peak, and that’s why I came here for advice.

“I would rather ease a rusty knife into my throat than leave my room while it’s just him and I alone.” This statement was also pretty fresh after household drama.

And for a little more context to the most recent quote, “I’m not too horribly afraid to go out of my room when he’s there.”, he hasn’t been as much of threat to me, unlike previously. I should also add that I don’t think I’d happy leave my room if I suddenly wanted a sandwich while he was there, but say if there’s like, a fire, or something. Or the seldom times I need to ask/tell something urgent to my mother, it’s a little easier to go out there now, on my own. Instead of either spamming her phone, or waiting until she comes to check on me.

And for the nightly tremors I’ve previously mentioned, I don’t know. They only ever tend to happen when I’ve had caffeine. Sometimes, just when I have friends over. Again, I’m not too horribly sure why those happen, though they haven’t happened in a few weeks. They’re usually accompanied by awful stomach aches, and sometimes, lacking of the ability to breathe correctly. Mini panic attacks? I really have no idea. Occasionally, I ask my mom to schedule a doctors appointment on the topic, but it doesn’t happen often enough for either of us to remember to actually get it done.

Hopefully that clears everything up, a little. Sorry for the confusion. My feelings and opinions tend to change drastically over short periods of time. I’ve even considered the possibility of something like bipolar disorder, but I don’t think it’s likely. It’s a shame that doctors and therapists don’t look into diagnoses a bit more. It’s a lot of “okay, what do you think that you have?” and “alright, we’ll give you a small questionnaire on the disorder (something with the same questions that you can find in an online quiz made by a 10 year old), and that will completely settle if you do/don’t have it.”

@Driftwood: Good points, as always.

I can’t see her doing anything but stating that I’m overreacting. She would go on about how he’s just joking, and how I shouldn’t take it so seriously. It’s extremely frustrating. I really don’t even want to try bothering, because it’s not worth the tense atmosphere, or the overheard arguments. Every option leads to nowhere. It’s like the gears aren’t functioning properly. Well, actually, it’s like living the same situations over and over, for years on end.

As for my hair – I don’t know. I can feel both confident and insecure with colored hair. I remember leaving the salon with rainbow hair a year ago, thinking “Oh god, what have I done? Now I have to get a brown wig, to blend in.”. But after a few months, and a large pile of compliments, I quite enjoyed it. I remember I let my roots grow out 3+ inches, because I didn’t want to cover the 8 month old rainbow dye job. But I did, and people liked the blue-to-green I did afterwards, too. I remember being insecure about everyone unfollowing my Instagram account after I got rid of my rainbow hair. (Pathetic, I know.)

But with natural hair, it’s different. There’s a relief with not sticking out anymore, but it also feels like I’m missing something. I suddenly blend in to crowds again, and compliments run scarce. There’s no fun colors to look forward to dyeing my hair. No scowls from the elderly. All of my makeup looks suddenly become less expressive, again. But there’s more relief in the fact that these periods of time are only to make sure I don’t go bald by the time I’m 20, and they only last long enough for my natural hair to grow out entirely, to bleach and dye again. And luckily, my hair grows pretty fast, so it only takes about a year or two for all of the dye to grow out. (For a little clarification, I mean that I dye my hair back to a dark, natural color, and then wait for my roots to grow out, so they become a little less noticeable.) God, now I’m rambling on about hair dye. I’m sorry I forced you to read these two paragraphs.

It’s funny that you mentioned meditation, because it’s one of the things I’ve always been interested in getting into, along with yoga, and any other super beneficial thing that not enough people consider taking the time to do. Might be things that I pursue later on, when I don’t live in the noisiest household of all time. (And the noisiest upstairs neighbors, who only tend to make noise when this household doesn’t. For example, their baby likes to cry at 2am, when everyone here is fast asleep. Truly joyous.)

—

The sad thing is that while I wait on the day I turn 18, that won’t be the end of it. I’ll still have to finish school, and somehow get enough money to haul everything across country. The smart thing to do, currently, would be to get a part time job so I can save up, but I really just don’t see that happening (and I mentioned that before, a bit).

Also, I overheard something interesting today. His daughter seems to be going through a pregnancy scare. Can’t help but wonder what’s going through his head, with this new information. I, of course, was brought up in their conversation (since I’m always compared to her), but that’s when I decided to close my door, which my mother left open previously. It only made it slightly less easy to hear, but easy enough to block it out, by distracting myself with online Christmas shopping. I pre-ordered an album, as a Christmas present to myself, and now I have to actually bother with buying my friends stuff. Life is hard.

Also, speaking of hair (not that I really should talk about it anymore), I’m thinking about doing an art piece with all of the previous dye jobs and hairstyles I’ve had. But I also have a friend nagging me for a request, and I have something big I’m working on now, and a few other ideas, so it’ll probably be a while.

@Anita: The real key word here is “indirect”.

He tries hard to cover up his tracks by dressing up an insult in a disguise. The disguise is usually a “joke”. So if I were to reply back, he would claim it’s only a joke. The contents of the “joke” can be on a variety of any of my weaknesses. (Weaknesses include: being too quiet, being glued to my phone, getting offended easily by his “jokes”, not having “amazing social skills” like his daughter, not doing any chores, leaching off of my mother, spending “too much” time with my mother, not getting a job within the first two months of being old enough to apply, etc). Those are all things he’s “joked” about. These “jokes” usually do come up in conversation between him and my mother, but he’s done it in front of me, many times.

There’s a big grey area, where some of his jokes lie. Sometimes I can’t tell if I’m being oversensitive, or if they’re just really not okay. There is no real rulebook on it. The only reason I dare justify any of it as the very loosely used term of “abuse”, is for the simple fact that my counselor has stated that it’s common practice for emotional abusers to make hurtful jokes.

He’s yelled at me too, from outside my closed door, when mother wasn’t home. Name calling. I might’ve mentioned it in the earlier posts, but he called me a failure. Can’t remember much more than that. In a time close to then, in an argument between them, he also went on about how I’m going to end up in my boyfriend’s basement, insisting that I’m just going to leach off of him. There’s nothing I could really say or do to stop him from going on about what he does. If I were to get a job now, he’d only mutter “finally” under his breath, find something else to yell about at mother, and suggest she force me to do.

And on the other side, I feel like I’m looking into it too deep, and it’s all just senseless “caveman speak” that I really shouldn’t be bothered by. Maybe I shouldn’t even consider the outcome of trying to live up to his expectations. After all, what would I get out of it? More complaining?

And before you mention it, I understand there’s way worse situations out there, and I’m very grateful I’m not in those. I can’t even imagine the pain of something physically abusive. I just dislike the situation I’m in right now, because he can get away with it so well, since mother deems it as “innocent”.

@Anita: I don’t quite see any benefit from doing so.

There would be no real purpose. He already knows what he says irritates me, and that’s why he says what he does. The only thing it’d do is give this household another elephant in the room; something uncomfortable that they’ll forget about in a week. What could be the best outcome, out of that? What would I even say?

Worst case scenario, I stand up for myself, and he mocks my response. Then, I’ll overhear another whispered argument about how lazy I am. We might have another “family meeting” the day afterwards, where mother forces him to apologize, and he does nothing but make a false promise to never mock me again. It usually happens again, after a month. It’s just a lot more emotionally draining than I’m willing to handle. Punching bags don’t fight back for a reason.

Knowing hurts. Being able to overanalyze a situation and see the real depth to every word and action hurts. Even when he’s not trying to attack me, his subconscious mannerisms still show how much he doesn’t want me in this household. There’s this aura (or “vibe”) I can’t really explain, but it’s very “I own this place, yeah, I’m top dog” that comes off of him. A pseudo confidence. It’s very degrading to be around, and makes me feel small. Of course I see through it, and I know I’m the better person, but that doesn’t make it any less bothersome to put up with. It doesn’t make me sad, as much as it makes me want to roll my eyes. I’m kind of talking in circles, but hopefully, you get the point.

@Driftwood: Speedy replies.

I understand, he’s already becoming less and less bothersome. I’m reaching a point where I find myself thinking “what else could he say?”. I’ve already boo-hoo’d at basically everything negative he’s said about me, and now I’m pretty much over it. But it’s also understandable as to why it hit me worse in the past few years, because he’s been preying on me since I was just turning 13. And most 13 year olds don’t get that much negative attention towards them, and they don’t know how to handle it.

There was some talk in the living room a while ago that bothered me a bit. Mother dragged me grocery shopping a few weeks ago, and got me to help with bagging and such (when I wasn’t busy panicking, due to the large amount of people). She reported this to him (as she usually does with everything, and that’s why I can’t tell her anything) and he replied with “yeah, try to make that a habit”. I get it, I’m a lazy slob who’s never had a chore before, but it feels a little degrading to have a baboon try to train my mother to put me to work. Maybe I’m overthinking it, but the thought genuinely makes me want to hurt something. (Not that I will.)

And thank you, for your comment on the painting. I wanted something that pictured the statement “together, but alone”, since it is long-distance, and him and I are rather alienated people. Oddballs, as some might say.

@Anita: Your examination on the statement does make a lot of sense. I know you’ve briefly gone over it before, but what exactly does heal a “wound”, then?

And thanks, I think I understand what core beliefs are, now. Just simple statements that you believe in, it seems.

–

Sorry for my limited amounts of writing, I’m still very wiped out from this past weekend. I had to babysit my two friends from Friday to Sunday, and my anxiety was haywire, so I didn’t get much of any sleep. One of my friends decided we should go shopping on black friday, and so I spent the majority of Friday panicking in big crowds. Friday night/morning was spent trembling, having short nightmares and bleaching my roots. Saturday was spent napping, Saturday night was a mini panick attack, because I thought one of my friends was mad at me (after she left). Sunday was spent napping.

Also irrelevant, but we ran out of hair bleach, (it’s not light enough to put the blue dye in yet, because it would turn green, right now) so now I have a pretty obvious insecurity that makes going out in public awful. The top half of my hair is very yellow, and the bottom half is a faded blue. Hats and hoods are my current best friends. Mom keeps giving me “soon, soon” about getting more bleach. If I haven’t mentioned it, she loves to put off everything. Pray for my hair and I.

@Anita: Hi. I’m sorry to hear that you had to go through such.

I hope those insults haven’t stuck with you, all that much. I know when I’m insulted, the names weigh down on me, for quite some time. I still have a grudge from name-calling that I endured in kindergarten, some years ago. (Oh god, I was in kindergarten only a decade ago..)

But where would everyone on the forums be without Anita? A lot more lonely and hopeless, I’d assume. You’re not “nothing” at all!

I can’t help but look up to you, for your steady healing, after going through all that you have.

@Driftwood: Hey, again.

Sleepovers are alright. Remember that thing I said about being drained from them? Yeah, that makes them a little dreadful. But it’s really nice to have those times where I can deliriously ramble at someone at 4am. I’ve had two, in the past week, and I have both of my friends coming over, tomorrow. A break (something longer than 2 days at a time) would be nice.

With the “kick and pet” ordeal – I try to catch myself a lot. It’s hard, though. I find it to be easier with people I’ve known longer, because there’s more substance for communication, rather than just randomly picking on them. But when I meet someone, I subconsciously go for making jokes to break the ice, which mean poking light fun (and puns). Baby steps. (I have smaller-than-average hands, and mother dearest always calls them “malnourished”, for a soft jab. That’s basically the “humor” I grew up with, and it’s hard to change. I “kick” myself a lot about them too, with friends, since they also know the joke. It’s just an easy way to liven up conversation, but it does cost me the price of self-confidence, at times. My s.o. thinks they’re cute, which makes me feel a little better. And I recently saw small, pudgy hands that someone sculpted, and now I almost don’t mind the fact that I can’t fit any rings.)

Yeah, I can get the stop and frisk metaphor, in this situation. (But, side note, I don’t think taking away people’s weapons will do all that much. People can use anything as a weapon, even their own fists. Violence is pretty inevitable.)

As for art and such – I understand. My mom was always invested into art. I feel like my unexpected birth really put a ball and chain on her, and forced her to do whatever kept us both off the street. I still have all of the art pieces she did when she was trying to get her stuff out there, when she had the time. She’s always on about how it’s hopeless to try now, but I don’t see it as such. Seeing everyone else’s lack of confidence in their artwork definitely makes me more aware of mine. I try to take compliments to heart, and definitely take any criticism I can.

Charter school’s a yes. Counselor asked about it last time, and she seemed excited that I’m leaning towards the idea. My grades in middle school were always fantastic (or better than they are now) and it’ll be nice to have teachers that’ll help push me on, again.

I’m not too sure about tours, as I’m yet to even see the actual location. For the sake of convenience, I might have to go in blindly, on the first day. It’s nothing I haven’t done before, though. And I’ve heard enough good things about the school to not be too scared.

He hasn’t been bothering, often. But today, I woke up to him in the living room saying something along the lines of “I wish it was just us“. I’m not sure if he was specifically talking about mom’s coworkers that she invited over for dinner or me, but I felt apart of it, anyways. I’m not sure why he’d exclude me. Little things like that still gets on my nerves.

Also, he’s currently on the phone with his daughter (she’s my age). She’s apparently in the car with her mother, who’s nagging her. It’s weird hearing him give someone advice on verbal abuse. Bothersome.

They have their bedroom door open, and my bathroom is across the way. I’m overdue for a shower, but walking past, currently, seems like uncomfortable eye contact and dead air. These are the awkward situations that I get myself into, daily. They cause a lot of stress, and not much of anyone can understand them. I know the majority of it is just in my head, but I can’t help feel like anything I do raises unwanted attention to me. I know if I do go now (and take the towel I used last time, because grabbing one from the hall closet would only raise more attention to me), nothing will happen, besides me beating myself up for a few minutes, and then forgetting about it after. Maybe a toxic thought aimed at me would go through his head, but I’d never hear it, anyways. There’s been times where I’ve felt so anxious, I muffled my already quiet breathing with my sleeve. I didn’t want him to know I was there, even though he already knew, because where else would I be?

The best advice I received on my weird and cowardly behavior is just to pretend I have a place, in the situation. Fake it til you make it. It’s one of the most difficult things for me to do, but I can do small things now and then, like walk across the hall with their door open. But I can’t do things like eat with everyone else, on Thanksgiving. That’s just something I don’t see myself aloud to do. My mom tried to get me to, but I knew I wouldn’t have been able to handle it, emotionally. The day would’ve ended in self-harm to the awful sound of fresh insults repeating in my head.

—

I hope everyone’s Thanksgiving (or just plain Thursday) went well. Mine was alright. I managed to eat a bit, while watching some youtube stuff. Didn’t actually leave my bed much of any today, which is a good day, in my book.

Also, this is irrelevant, but I cooked, yesterday. The dinner mom made wasn’t filling, so I made myself a turkey patty, which still wasn’t filling, so I made myself a grilled cheese. I would’ve just snacked on whatever I can find, like usual, but all we really have right now is raw meat, bread, and sandwich stuff. It’s a big step, for me, since I never really take care of myself.

Anyways, I’ve gotta try to clean for tomorrow, and shower. I’ll cross that hall. (I’ve decided I’m going to shut off my pc, so it’ll be pitch black, and he probably won’t be able to see me anyways. Gives me more peace of mind, anyways).

@Anita: That’s a good idea that I haven’t even considered before. Thanks.

I have to go to a birthday sleepover at a friend’s house tonight. Her birthday is exactly a month later than mine, which is cool. Replies might be scarce until Monday.