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Feb. 17th, 2026 05:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
xindigosaberxI really don't remember much of that time. I remember a room with white walls and a big wooden door. That man was there, he said something extremely funny to me, I remember laughing and the way his grey eyes danced stayed with me. It still has. I must've been around 3 years old, I got hurt after that. My big brother dragged me down some stairs and I hit my head against a wall at the bottom. I split my skull and needed stitches. I remember that part, and the fact that it didn't hurt. I was calm, which shocked the doctors. After that my memories got hazy, I had trouble thinking for a long time and I remember the effort I put into hiding it. I couldn't tell you why even now. Just that thoughts would come into my head then flit away as I tried to express them. I used humor to hide it. My brothers called me wacky. I got blinding headaches. I started having weird dreams where I'd see nothing but a blinding light and hear the impossibly loud buzzing of bees. But I got better after that, somewhat. Got diagnosed with ADHD though I'm not sure that's what it ever has been.
My family has always resented me though I can't exactly say why. I used to think it was because our legal guardian used me to spy on them, but I realize their resentment and mistreatment happened before that began. I've always been considered a burden to them even though I've been the one paying their bills, buying their groceries, paying for a wedding that wasn't mine, countless trips to run errands, countless shopping sprees, dinners out and hours spent making sure everyone had what they needed. I don't think I'll ever understand it.
I cut ties with most of them years ago, built a new family and thought it was a good one. For many years I felt so supported, then my second husband died and things switched right after the funeral. I felt utterly unprepared for that switch up. I was working full time, taking care of my kids 60% of the time just like before, kids got to school every day and fed good meals, wore name brand clothes and had the very best in skin, dental and hair care. Bought them designer suits for the funeral and salon haircuts for the school year. I was struggling, not eating or sleeping, but we were making it. I admit I was sleeping with a man on occasion, but tell me a widow my age who didn't? I was careful, I didn't catch anything or let them near my children. Not until I'd been dating one for a while and thought it was serious. I followed the rules my ex and I set. I got to know the man, I ran a background check, I met his family, everything checked out. But my kids turned on me viciously. Said things I definitely didn't deserve often enough I started to doubt everything. Then my family acted the same. Went from distant after the funeral to flat out judgmental and rude and no one ever actually told me what I did. They'd tell me I didn't love my dead husband, that I must've been faking it, but no one ever actually confronted me with evidence or clear accusations. People wouldn't tell me why they came to the conclusion I needed 'help' as they called it, but they'd say it anyway. No one seemed to care how confusing that was.
I loved my husband with all my heart, I loved him so much my grief for losing him was bittersweet. I had so many good stories and so few regrets I couldn't even be properly sad, I was just so grateful he and I met and had the time we had. I can't explain it better than that. My time with him was a gift and I couldn't regret it and I did cry and grieve, but it was intermingled with the good memories and joy we shared.
I distanced myself from them at that point, because I was tired of being judged instead of helped. The catalyst was when I got hurt at work and the injury was to my feet rendering me unable to wear closed shoes or walk for a few months. Between the different costs of my daughters hospitalization, schooling, apartment rental within walking distance of their high school, and everything else going on, what funds I had dwindled. I paid off my late husbands debt and bought a dependable car- then I made roughly 200k last 5 years in living expenses while I became my daughters main caregiver and funding source for mental healthcare, raised my son as best I could, I gave up trying to work after my daughter came home but to be clear- I was living on a wage of 40-50k a year with 2 kids. That is normal and not rich or wasteful living in my area. It's on the lower end of normal. Its barely out of poverty lines.
But my 'family' had opinions anyway. Nevermind that I had twice weekly video appointments, once weekly phone appointments and intermittent calls each day regarding my daughter's care just to fulfill my obligations for the facility I'd paid to put her in because it was better than the hospital she was in initially and got attacked. I could not work and miss those obligations and keep her in the program. When she got home finally, I could not leave her unattended. She still snuck outside the apartment at night so I had to start padlocking doors and windows. Someone kept trying to break in at the apartment while I was home alone, that activity followed us to the new county we moved to. It was a mess. A chaotic, painful, traumatizing mess and I still had to be my daughters main source of support in spite of all of it because of what my ex did to her.
My 'family' didn't care, they judged every move I made anyway.
They didn't help more than two weekends I *paid them for*, which ended with my daughter reporting she'd seen her half sister talking poorly about her in a group chat- and the sister telling me she just couldn't do it anymore. So, no, they didn't help. They just judged.
I gave up on support entirely after we moved. Focused on building, and the only job I found in the new county was at a prison. A prison filled with extremely weird behaving employees. People who invaded my space, put crap in my water cup or soda bottle, started every rumor under the sun about me, or just stared at me like I was about to grow a second head or they wanted to rip off the one I already had. I couldn't make sense of much of it- but I suspect that's because most of the drama I wasn't directly involved in...I was just the target. That's what happens when you tell the village gossip you don't trust or want to be friends with people who gossip I suppose. Go figure.
The stalking at my home got worse. People outside our door or windows late at night. One night I took a shower to look up and find a man staring at me from the window above the shower, his blue eye nearly pressed against the glass. Early mornings I'd wake to the sound of shoes crunching on gravel just outside my bedroom window. My daughter would wake me in the night repeatedly saying someone was scratching against the glass on her bedroom window or tapping the wall. Twice I found our electrical box broken into. Some nights I'd hear what sounded like someone walking on the roof only to find roof tiles in the gravel in the morning. In the middle of the night after a particularly sticky week at work, I woke to the sound of a woman humming in a low voice and tapping on my bedroom window with something metal.
At work things were getting worse too. People knew my private business even though I hadn't told anyone. My boss' boss would watch me wherever I was with a weird smile on his face that made me want to run. The one man I wanted to be friends with would do weird things too like say extremely condescending things about me in the main corridor of the admin building, then smile brightly at me and wave like that hadn't just happened. The person he talked to about me kept coming by the office, stopping in the doorway until I looked up, shake his head and glare at me menacingly, then walk away. One day when this happened I looked at my supervisor like 'WTF?' she shrugged and I went about my day...business as usual in a prison I suppose? One night I pulled out of my garage unexpectedly and nearly backed into one of the other prison employees cars with one of them inside just sitting at my house, in my driveway, late at night. They peeled out of there quick in their grey sedan. The other two coworkers I shared the office with kept getting progressively more aggressive with trying to get me to leave. One of them threatened me more than once, saying they solved their problems with people they didn't like with guns. I reported to HR everything that was happening, absolutely nothing was done. I transferred to medical only to find the same general stuff happened there. At that point I was so disgusted with the situation I began looking quietly for a new job.
I had friends at least, though they were usually quiet about it. Somehow every friend I made seemed to anger everyone else. But what hurt the most was that I usually make friends with everyone in whatever workplace I'm in. I'd only had one experience before the prison where that wasn't the case and that was because my supervisor at that job had a sister with my name that she absolutely hated and took out all her hate on me and admitted to it. People avoided me for that. Here at the prison, there was no such BS reason to my knowledge. Just my refusal to gossip. The absolute kicker? In training I defended the man I wanted to be friends with- one of the trainees, a nurse, was trying to trick him into saying something racist which she admitted back at the training office(because she was BORED). I redirected the conversation away from him and the trap she was trying to set and got on his shit list. The other? My supervisor. The coworker I shut down on gossip was badmouthing my supervisor and I came to her defense and refused to let the conversation continue. This is the first job I've ever worked in 22 years where defending people made them hate me.
My last week at the prison I witnessed officers mocking an inmate in the middle of a mental health crisis. It got progressively cruel and I got angrier until the chief of security asked me why I was so angry because he was used to me being all smiles. I told him I was agitated and he was surprised but let it go...and then he joined in and my heart broke a little. I really admired that man and I realized then all the people there were the same...even the ones I genuinely liked working with. I made the mistake of saying so to my supervisor in medical. She made it clear that I had to let that stuff go or report and face the backlash. I had at that point already reported but I was so angry I couldn't let it go.
The day I quit I knew something weird was going on. I'd gotten hired at a temp agency with a new assignment on the books as soon as my background cleared. I was supposed to start sometime the next week. I'd gotten my resignation letter written and worked on it all week during free moments. I showed up that morning in my long sleeve company polo shirt, jeans and my loafers. It was a Friday, I don't even wear makeup on casual Fridays. I give my skin a 3 day reset. But men kept telling me how good I looked when I was dressed casually and considerably less dressed up than normal. The inmate who helped as a porter sniffed me in a weird way, I made a joke with an officer and he walked right up to me and invaded my personal space like the joke was a personal invitation for more than that. I was so discombobulated by the attention and repeated invasion of my space that I went to the break room to get a soda and something to eat. On my way back I was stuck outside medical waiting for control to open the door. There were inmates nearby- who began to make more and more comments about how pretty I was. I tried the polite approach, then the direct approach, then the look for a witness before I threatened a ticket. The only person nearby was my boss' boss...and he turned his back like it wasn't happening which made the inmate grin in a way that made my skin crawl and keep insisting how attractive I was. I got inside medical, sent my resignation and left. I can't explain what was going on that morning, only that I arrived on time at eight and all that weirdness occurred before 11am. I'd been there since april, it was late November, and that was the first time I'd had anything like that happen and for it to all happen in a space of two hours...something was set to happen. I think they were orchestrating either me being compromised and let go, or something worse.
That led to me going home, getting let go the next morning without explanation from my new job, getting pneumonia for a straight month, then hired three more times and let go mysteriously before my start date, to being faced with homelessness because of the situation, to the shelter I'm in now. All in all, the last five years have hurt intensely. I have tried very hard, and I've definitely made mistakes, but nothing so terrible I deserve what I've experienced at the hands of other people. And still...ZERO answers for WHY.
So you'll pardon me if I'm angry, if I want answers, if I want retribution. Because I've given up on the idea of justice. It doesn't exist in my sphere. It never has.
My family has always resented me though I can't exactly say why. I used to think it was because our legal guardian used me to spy on them, but I realize their resentment and mistreatment happened before that began. I've always been considered a burden to them even though I've been the one paying their bills, buying their groceries, paying for a wedding that wasn't mine, countless trips to run errands, countless shopping sprees, dinners out and hours spent making sure everyone had what they needed. I don't think I'll ever understand it.
I cut ties with most of them years ago, built a new family and thought it was a good one. For many years I felt so supported, then my second husband died and things switched right after the funeral. I felt utterly unprepared for that switch up. I was working full time, taking care of my kids 60% of the time just like before, kids got to school every day and fed good meals, wore name brand clothes and had the very best in skin, dental and hair care. Bought them designer suits for the funeral and salon haircuts for the school year. I was struggling, not eating or sleeping, but we were making it. I admit I was sleeping with a man on occasion, but tell me a widow my age who didn't? I was careful, I didn't catch anything or let them near my children. Not until I'd been dating one for a while and thought it was serious. I followed the rules my ex and I set. I got to know the man, I ran a background check, I met his family, everything checked out. But my kids turned on me viciously. Said things I definitely didn't deserve often enough I started to doubt everything. Then my family acted the same. Went from distant after the funeral to flat out judgmental and rude and no one ever actually told me what I did. They'd tell me I didn't love my dead husband, that I must've been faking it, but no one ever actually confronted me with evidence or clear accusations. People wouldn't tell me why they came to the conclusion I needed 'help' as they called it, but they'd say it anyway. No one seemed to care how confusing that was.
I loved my husband with all my heart, I loved him so much my grief for losing him was bittersweet. I had so many good stories and so few regrets I couldn't even be properly sad, I was just so grateful he and I met and had the time we had. I can't explain it better than that. My time with him was a gift and I couldn't regret it and I did cry and grieve, but it was intermingled with the good memories and joy we shared.
I distanced myself from them at that point, because I was tired of being judged instead of helped. The catalyst was when I got hurt at work and the injury was to my feet rendering me unable to wear closed shoes or walk for a few months. Between the different costs of my daughters hospitalization, schooling, apartment rental within walking distance of their high school, and everything else going on, what funds I had dwindled. I paid off my late husbands debt and bought a dependable car- then I made roughly 200k last 5 years in living expenses while I became my daughters main caregiver and funding source for mental healthcare, raised my son as best I could, I gave up trying to work after my daughter came home but to be clear- I was living on a wage of 40-50k a year with 2 kids. That is normal and not rich or wasteful living in my area. It's on the lower end of normal. Its barely out of poverty lines.
But my 'family' had opinions anyway. Nevermind that I had twice weekly video appointments, once weekly phone appointments and intermittent calls each day regarding my daughter's care just to fulfill my obligations for the facility I'd paid to put her in because it was better than the hospital she was in initially and got attacked. I could not work and miss those obligations and keep her in the program. When she got home finally, I could not leave her unattended. She still snuck outside the apartment at night so I had to start padlocking doors and windows. Someone kept trying to break in at the apartment while I was home alone, that activity followed us to the new county we moved to. It was a mess. A chaotic, painful, traumatizing mess and I still had to be my daughters main source of support in spite of all of it because of what my ex did to her.
My 'family' didn't care, they judged every move I made anyway.
They didn't help more than two weekends I *paid them for*, which ended with my daughter reporting she'd seen her half sister talking poorly about her in a group chat- and the sister telling me she just couldn't do it anymore. So, no, they didn't help. They just judged.
I gave up on support entirely after we moved. Focused on building, and the only job I found in the new county was at a prison. A prison filled with extremely weird behaving employees. People who invaded my space, put crap in my water cup or soda bottle, started every rumor under the sun about me, or just stared at me like I was about to grow a second head or they wanted to rip off the one I already had. I couldn't make sense of much of it- but I suspect that's because most of the drama I wasn't directly involved in...I was just the target. That's what happens when you tell the village gossip you don't trust or want to be friends with people who gossip I suppose. Go figure.
The stalking at my home got worse. People outside our door or windows late at night. One night I took a shower to look up and find a man staring at me from the window above the shower, his blue eye nearly pressed against the glass. Early mornings I'd wake to the sound of shoes crunching on gravel just outside my bedroom window. My daughter would wake me in the night repeatedly saying someone was scratching against the glass on her bedroom window or tapping the wall. Twice I found our electrical box broken into. Some nights I'd hear what sounded like someone walking on the roof only to find roof tiles in the gravel in the morning. In the middle of the night after a particularly sticky week at work, I woke to the sound of a woman humming in a low voice and tapping on my bedroom window with something metal.
At work things were getting worse too. People knew my private business even though I hadn't told anyone. My boss' boss would watch me wherever I was with a weird smile on his face that made me want to run. The one man I wanted to be friends with would do weird things too like say extremely condescending things about me in the main corridor of the admin building, then smile brightly at me and wave like that hadn't just happened. The person he talked to about me kept coming by the office, stopping in the doorway until I looked up, shake his head and glare at me menacingly, then walk away. One day when this happened I looked at my supervisor like 'WTF?' she shrugged and I went about my day...business as usual in a prison I suppose? One night I pulled out of my garage unexpectedly and nearly backed into one of the other prison employees cars with one of them inside just sitting at my house, in my driveway, late at night. They peeled out of there quick in their grey sedan. The other two coworkers I shared the office with kept getting progressively more aggressive with trying to get me to leave. One of them threatened me more than once, saying they solved their problems with people they didn't like with guns. I reported to HR everything that was happening, absolutely nothing was done. I transferred to medical only to find the same general stuff happened there. At that point I was so disgusted with the situation I began looking quietly for a new job.
I had friends at least, though they were usually quiet about it. Somehow every friend I made seemed to anger everyone else. But what hurt the most was that I usually make friends with everyone in whatever workplace I'm in. I'd only had one experience before the prison where that wasn't the case and that was because my supervisor at that job had a sister with my name that she absolutely hated and took out all her hate on me and admitted to it. People avoided me for that. Here at the prison, there was no such BS reason to my knowledge. Just my refusal to gossip. The absolute kicker? In training I defended the man I wanted to be friends with- one of the trainees, a nurse, was trying to trick him into saying something racist which she admitted back at the training office(because she was BORED). I redirected the conversation away from him and the trap she was trying to set and got on his shit list. The other? My supervisor. The coworker I shut down on gossip was badmouthing my supervisor and I came to her defense and refused to let the conversation continue. This is the first job I've ever worked in 22 years where defending people made them hate me.
My last week at the prison I witnessed officers mocking an inmate in the middle of a mental health crisis. It got progressively cruel and I got angrier until the chief of security asked me why I was so angry because he was used to me being all smiles. I told him I was agitated and he was surprised but let it go...and then he joined in and my heart broke a little. I really admired that man and I realized then all the people there were the same...even the ones I genuinely liked working with. I made the mistake of saying so to my supervisor in medical. She made it clear that I had to let that stuff go or report and face the backlash. I had at that point already reported but I was so angry I couldn't let it go.
The day I quit I knew something weird was going on. I'd gotten hired at a temp agency with a new assignment on the books as soon as my background cleared. I was supposed to start sometime the next week. I'd gotten my resignation letter written and worked on it all week during free moments. I showed up that morning in my long sleeve company polo shirt, jeans and my loafers. It was a Friday, I don't even wear makeup on casual Fridays. I give my skin a 3 day reset. But men kept telling me how good I looked when I was dressed casually and considerably less dressed up than normal. The inmate who helped as a porter sniffed me in a weird way, I made a joke with an officer and he walked right up to me and invaded my personal space like the joke was a personal invitation for more than that. I was so discombobulated by the attention and repeated invasion of my space that I went to the break room to get a soda and something to eat. On my way back I was stuck outside medical waiting for control to open the door. There were inmates nearby- who began to make more and more comments about how pretty I was. I tried the polite approach, then the direct approach, then the look for a witness before I threatened a ticket. The only person nearby was my boss' boss...and he turned his back like it wasn't happening which made the inmate grin in a way that made my skin crawl and keep insisting how attractive I was. I got inside medical, sent my resignation and left. I can't explain what was going on that morning, only that I arrived on time at eight and all that weirdness occurred before 11am. I'd been there since april, it was late November, and that was the first time I'd had anything like that happen and for it to all happen in a space of two hours...something was set to happen. I think they were orchestrating either me being compromised and let go, or something worse.
That led to me going home, getting let go the next morning without explanation from my new job, getting pneumonia for a straight month, then hired three more times and let go mysteriously before my start date, to being faced with homelessness because of the situation, to the shelter I'm in now. All in all, the last five years have hurt intensely. I have tried very hard, and I've definitely made mistakes, but nothing so terrible I deserve what I've experienced at the hands of other people. And still...ZERO answers for WHY.
So you'll pardon me if I'm angry, if I want answers, if I want retribution. Because I've given up on the idea of justice. It doesn't exist in my sphere. It never has.
