A Simple-Minded Pig

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I graduated high school! It was basically a miracle according to Joan. Since I wasn’t smart enough nor pretty enough to find a “good man”…at least I had my high school diploma.

Joan was also dating my old high school principal, Leisure Suit Larry. He left the school my sophomore year and was placed in the Superintendents office which was a little “cottage” office right behind my house. He was transferred out of the school after he got a DUI and was plastered all over the newspapers.  Larry drove by our house twice a day to go to work and always would see Joan; who was beautiful, dressed well and drove a nice sports car.

One day while I was in class I was called to the Vice Principals office. He asked me about a friend of mine that was in a psych ward for attempting suicide.  Extremely random question and was weird. Before I left his office he asked me about my dad. He says “I pulled your emergency card to get your class schedule and saw that your dad lives in California and works for an oil company. Does he work on an oil rig and travel back and forth?”  Random right?  I explained he lives there full time as he and mom were divorced. It was so strange how he came to that conclusion or question, he was a weird dude anyway, so I chalked it up as that.

Little did I know Larry had asked the VP to find out my mom’s marital status so he could ask her out. The story of Leisure Suit Larry is a whole other topic and posting, but Joan told me it was most likely his influence that helped me graduate.

My teachers treated me like I was stupid and so did Joan, maybe they were right.  It was even more clear that I must be stupid when my college fund was no longer available.

When dad left he had set up 2 college funds for Sis and I, $10k each to start our schooling. When I graduated I didn’t get to start right away as I had to have an ovarian cyst removed 3 days after graduation and then Joan became very ill (another topic for down the road).

The following year I was ready, so I worked the previous year selling sports shoes. I went to mom and told her that I was checking out college courses and needed to know how I was to pay for it, with a check from her or a credit card. She smiled at me and giggled, “what makes you think I have the money to send you to college?” I explained that I thought dad had set money aside for us, and she told me he did but there wasn’t any left.

Joan further explained that life isn’t fair and sometimes we have to make sacrifices. My college fund was spent before I graduated on a new sports car for my sister. I remember the day like it was yesterday, I just didn’t know I was the one who actually bought her the car.

My sister drove a muscle car through high school that Joan bought her. After Sis graduated she had come home one day and called mom at work, telling her that she found a new car she wanted. I believe Joan said no based on price and that’s when Sis lost her mind. She cried and screamed like a toddlers temper tantrum, on the floor kicking and throwing a fit. Pleading “Please mommy please. At least I’ve never left you like Katy did. Maybe I’ll just move to dads too.” There you have it, a 19-year-old behaving like a toddler.

Basically Joan gave in at that point and she bought Sis the car..with my college fund.  Yes folks, Joan sacrificed my future to pacify the little monster she created.

Once I realized where the college fund went…I died. It felt like a knife in the gut with Joan shoving it in deeper while in my face saying “You stupid little girl, you’re not good enough, paybacks are a bitch”. I clearly wasn’t smart enough to send to college. She clearly had to have balanced what was more important right? I sucked in school, her boyfriend helped me graduate and my sister’s happiness was more important than my future.

I felt stupid, ashamed and embarrassed to even think I could manage college. What was I thinking? Oh and Dad..he didn’t want to be bothered by it.  Nothing he could do about it from there. It was done, and what’s done is done. Dad helped solidify my simple-minded self.

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The Wild Pig & The Barfly

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High school was completely crazy!  I had no supervision once I moved back to Joan’s house.  I came and went as I pleased, no curfew and no restrictions.  A teenagers dream life! I was responsible though for cooking my own meals, cleaning the house weekly, my laundry, having a job and paying for my gas and car insurance.  I was handed a ridiculous amount of responsibility at 16.  My friends loved my mom because of all of this and I pretended it was amazing. Yet deep down I was frightened, insecure, sad and very angry. Little did my friends know I was envious of their required family dinners, doing homework at the kitchen table, having to call and check in after school and be on a curfew.

Let’s start with the free reign to do what I wanted.  If I was hanging out with friends my age, we were required to be to their home by a certain time.  Honestly I loved the freedom at first so I rarely hung out with friends my age. I was typically dating someone 18 and older so our nights consisted of drinking, sex and mischief. In the 80’s we could have parties that lasted all night without any cops being called, alcohol was easy to get and if a home wasn’t available for our soiree then a field somewhere was just as good.

Drinking and driving was normal. No other way to put it, we drank and we cruised, radio blaring Motley Crue or Van Halen. We drag raced, no seat belts and open containers in the car.

School wasn’t optional in my eyes, but I loathed it. I had ADD and didn’t know it, I don’t think it became a real diagnosis until the 90’s, so I was considered rebellious as a student. Teachers thought I didn’t care about my education, so they didn’t care about me. Very simply put, they never invested time in me. I couldn’t focus on reading as I couldn’t retain any of it. I couldn’t understand why I could read an entire page and not have any clue what I had just read. I truly thought I was just stupid and my grades reflected that. I had to take summer school classes after my sophomore year and a full schedule of classes my senior year to graduate with a 2.5 GPA.

I was wild and out of control. I had a mouth like a truck driver, my bark and my bite were both terrifying, but you couldn’t tell by looking at me. I was an underdeveloped skinny girl who had to prove herself as a badass, for fear that others might feel they could treat me the same way Joan did.

My mom, the barfly, despised me. She didn’t EVER want to be bothered by me. Thursday through Saturday nights you could find Joan at her favorite watering hole dancing and drinking the night away.  Typically dressed in a leather miniskirt, pumps, low-cut blouse, big earrings and even bigger hair.  Just picture Tina Turner in the 80’s and you have Joan.

It wasn’t odd that sometimes we strolled into the front door at the same time on the weekends, typically between 2 and 3am. Both drunk, looking like hammered shit and never saying one word to each other.

Joan made it clear that she didn’t care what I did or how my grades looked. She told me to marry into money because I wasn’t smart enough to have a career that paid well nor pretty enough to have my choice of men. No wonder I didn’t bother at trying to be a better student, mom didn’t believe in me so why should I believe in myself.

I have to say that writing that last paragraph made me nauseous! I couldn’t imagine telling my children this EVER! My two beautiful gifts from God are my life and I will walk through hell to make sure they know they are loved and wanted and worthy! I don’t expect them to be doctors or engineers, I just want them to be happy and to follow their dreams. To feel loved and be loved by me. To know they are worthy of God’s love no matter what happens in life. To be kind-hearted compassionate souls to everyone and everything they encounter. To know that love is not conditional from me nor God.

I deserved better from my mother, her mother didn’t treat her this way, there’s no excuse for her behavior. I was her pig.

The Mask of the Wolf and the Sheep

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A wolf in sheep’s clothing has been a parable used for centuries.  Except the poor wolf has been labeled as an angry beast and only out for blood, meanwhile the sheep is innocent and prey to the wolf. Both used to describe humans as either predator or prey, the emotionally angry beast could cover up his gnashing teeth with a mask of emotionally lacking sweet innocence.  Is this where we humans learned to cover up our emotions with the proverbial mask?

Did you know that both of these creatures from God represent all of our emotions? Take a look at this wheel of emotions, the center emotions are our core base emotions. Moving outward are the next phase emotions generating from one of the core emotions.

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Wolves have our similar core emotions as humans, they don’t show all of it on their faces, but they do with body language and vocally without words.

Sheep also have our similar core emotions, again based on their physical and vocal actions.

So why does the wolf have to be the bad guy in this? He’s the predator plain and simple. Raw end of the stick I’d say!

The “bad guy” is the expectation that we must cover our true identity with a mask.

  • “Never let them see you cry”
  • “You have no right to be angry”
  • “What are you so scared of you pussy”
  • “You know you look stupid”
  • “What are you so happy about”
  • “Don’t just stand there”
  • “Look how you made me feel”
  • “I don’t understand you or where you’re coming from”
  • “Wipe that look off your face”
  • “Keep your chin up”
  • “You have to stay strong”
  • “You’re being dramatic”
  • “Your feelings aren’t fair to me”

Each of these common statements inflict shame, embarrassment, condemnation and conditional love. None of us want to feel this way, so we “put on a happy face” our mask, disconnect from our feelings and become someone we’re not.

Maybe this is why I loved Halloween for so many years, I could dress up and be and act the part of my costume. Freedom for one night of the year.

I took my mask off 16 years ago when the Matriarch of our family died. I was no longer ruled over by her, I didn’t have to please her any longer. I got to confront her destruction head on and find the lost little girl who was never good enough. I cried for the first time in front of my psychologist of 6 years!  I found my angry voice and let people have it who’ve hurt me. I was like a shaken can of soda opened for the first time, I exploded in emotions.

Ironically at this time a homeless wolf hybrid showed up at my house.  While most were afraid of her, I saw her pain in needing love. I took her in, I loved her, fed her, bathed her, took her to the veterinarian and gave her a home. She in turn protected me, saved me, comforted me and loved me unconditionally.  This emotionally connected creature was a gift to me from God.

The sheep in all of these parables, is the mask. The mask of being stifled. Such an interesting word to describe “the sacrificial sheep”.

stifle [ stahy-fuhl ]

Definition: prevent, restrain

Synonyms: asphyxiate, black out, bring to screeching halt, burke, check, choke, choke back, clam up, clamp down, constipate, cork, cover up, crack down, curb, dry up, extinguish, gag, hold it down, hush, hush up, kill, muffle, muzzle, put the lid on, repress, shut up, silence, sit on, smother, spike, squash, squelch, stagnate, stop, strangle, stultify, suffocate, suppress, torpedo, trammel.

 

I will no longer be insignificant in regards to my feelings.  This doesn’t mean some of my feelings don’t scare me. I do know for many getting into touch with real feelings is beyond painful and more than they can handle. Doesn’t make them weak.  I’ve always liked the song Bridge Over Troubled Waters, because the bridge is much like the mask, protecting you from unforeseen trouble.  That water represents so much in our lives. Crossing that water without the bridge is going to be very difficult, scary, unforgiving, you’ll get pulled under, swallow water, have stinging pain from the cold, you’ll trip, question yourself and your sanity. Yet after you get to the shore and crawl to higher safe ground, you’ll be physically and emotionally wiped out. You’ll feel a sense of accomplishment and relief you made it through all of it.  Then after you practice crossing the troubled waters more and more, you’ll learn how to survive the trek across again and again. Make sure though before you take this adventure with another person, you know this person is safe and won’t attempt to stifle you. I believe you know what I mean.

The stifling pig in my life has been sacrificed and my emotions and feelings are my own..my very own and no one can take them away from me again.

The Promiscuous Pig

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Sounds like the title of a children’s book. ..in a jacked up sort of way it is.

Experiencing an abandonment in my preteens, then being raped in my teens coupled with poor self-esteem because I was never good enough for my mother and stepmother…I viewed sex in an unhealthy way.  My parents NEVER spoke to me about sex…NEVER!  Plus it was the 80’s where big hair rocker bands had women falling all over them, when MTV actually played music videos of sex & drugs with provocatively dressed women being promiscuous.  THAT’S where I learned about sex.

In a sick way I was trying to “make” a guy like me and want to stay with me. I thought it would happen through sex and that was my “tool” to get them to stay.  Well they didn’t stay, in fact they knew how to “use” me to get what they wanted.  Then tossed me away along with the condom we used…IF we used one.

Are you now questioning in your mind “how stupid could she be”?  I wasn’t stupid, I was uneducated, no one invested their time in me to teach me nor make me feel valued.  I know my reputation was dirt by the end of my junior year of high school, but that didn’t stop my behavior.  Plus I wasn’t the only one.

I look back now through my life and can see that promiscuity played a huge role until 10 years ago.  Anytime I felt not good enough, insecure, break up with a boyfriend or divorced…the promiscuous pig reared is ugly head.

Besides a bad reputation, I suffered and still suffer for my poor choices. I never got pregnant but I did get venereal diseases.  I first contracted venereal warts, treatment at that time was slicing them off with a scalpel without numbing, then cauterizing with a small burning tool.  Also used liquid nitrogen to freeze and burn them off.  Basically PAINFUL!

Secondly I caught chlamydia, which was treated with antibiotics through a painful injection. Caught this a couple of times.

My life long mistake was genital herpes.  Caught this in my twenties and has been a humiliating, shameful and destructive disease since.

Why did I choose pictures of Jodie Foster roles as my top picture for this topic? Because 1. She’s my most favorite actress and 2. These 3 roles defined me psychologically. I was a young promiscuous teen who could have ended up as a prostitute, I had a dysfunctional family who didn’t teach me the basics in life about sex and I behaved many times as her characters did in those movies.

It wasn’t until I discovered and learned why I behaved this way that I stopped being promiscuous. Not until I was in my 30’s. Then I discovered Jesus and learned that God loves me no matter what I’ve done and He’s not ashamed of me. That through grace He understands, but that it doesn’t mean I can still behave that way without consequences.  I learned why my body is a temple, it’s the vessel God gave me to be on this earth and I am to treat this gift with respect and love. Not defile it to get what I want.  There’s so much more there, but I was redeemed and still am!

Promiscuity will kill you, emotionally and eventually physically through contracting a terminal illness. Whether it’s HIV or cancer from venereal warts, or severe depression which could be a life sentence of hell.

It’s a pig I no longer wish to put lipstick on. This pig has been sacrificed.

Learn more about teen sex and promiscuity at:  http://www.troubledteens.biz/causes-of-sexual-promiscuity-in-teens/

 

The Aftermath of Rape

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It didn’t take long for the symptoms to hit me after that night.  I went through a myriad of emotions that came at me like a deck of cards beings flung towards my head.

  • Depression
  • Flashbacks
  • Insomnia
  • Guilt
  • Anger

I pulled away from my regular friends, the other cheerleaders, my dad, step-mom and baby brother.  I kept replaying the rape but recreating the end result of me kicking his ass.  I’d get to a point where I’d want to tell someone, but then remember that I put myself in that situation and it was my fault.  I’d become embarrassed to say it out loud.  Instead I internalized it and decided to not tell anyone.

I then began to act out which was later suggested was Borderline Personality Disorder, with symptoms of:

  • Identity Crisis
  • Emotional Instability
  • Impulsivity
  • Chronic Feeling of Emptiness

I started to hang out with different clicks that were considered risky teens, back then they were labeled “Mods” also known as “Goth”.  I would sneak out at night and go to parties.  Cut off all my hair.  Wear different clothes.  Then became best friends with an extremely emotionally disturbed girl.  We started snorting crank and dropped acid once.

Then before I knew it, two and a half months had passed and I hadn’t gotten my period since the rape…oh shit!  I had a journal, but I never admitted in it that I had been raped.  Writing it down made it too real and scary, but I did journal my concern of being pregnant and “what if”.  I had no idea who to turn to or where to go.

After a couple of weeks I came home from school and my step-mom was standing in the kitchen with the bitchiest look of hate on her face. She pointed to the table where my journal was laying.  Well shit.

No questions asked, no sit down calmly and talk and no empathy.  All she said was “I’ve made an appointment for you at Planned Parenthood. You better pray to God you aren’t pregnant. I mean how stupid could you be?  You will have an abortion. Go up to your room I can’t stand to even look at you.”

I now know that because of my changes in behavior she and my dad decided to search my room for drugs and found my journal.  Then, all I felt was shame, guilt, fear, horror and sick to my stomach.  But with a crazy sense of relief, because I was going to get the help I needed. At least I got the physical help I needed.

By the grace of God I wasn’t pregnant.  The Nurse Practitioner said it must have been stress related since I had my first sexual intercourse.  She never asked if I was raped, I would have said yes, but she didn’t ask so I figured she didn’t care.

After that day my stepmother hated me.  I became her little bitch in so many ways.  My father never spoke to me about it until I was like 27 yrs old.

Also during this time, my stepmother Velma, her mother had moved in with us. Her name was Mary.  Mary was an alcoholic for 12+ years with moments of sobriety in between.  After a couple of months living with us, I was up in my room and I could hear my dad screaming at Mary and Velma.  Then he came to my room and came up the stairs and sat down on my bed and calmly asked me, “Katy. I know it’s been really hard on you lately and I need you to be honest with me. Have you been drinking hard liquor?”

Blew me away! Why? Because I hadn’t been. I hated the taste of it, especially the Canadian Club Whiskey they always kept a case of.  “No dad I swear to you I haven’t been drinking. I hate that stuff. Why do you think I’ve been drinking?” Then he told me that he and Velma noticed the bottle had been emptier than before, so they spoke with Mary to see if she started drinking again and she denied it. Yet she quickly pointed out my bad behavior over the past 5 months and it was probably me drinking it all.

That night ended ok for me as dad believed me, he knew I wasn’t lying. Plus I was terrified of him and he knew it, his temper was fucking scary! Mary on the other hand got her ass handed to her and Velma got her ass handed to her because she was quick to agree to blame me. That night I slept good, but it was the last of many sleepless nights.

From that point forward I became enemy number 1 for Velma and Mary.  Until 2 months later, after I finished my freshman year and moved back home with Joan.  Two alcoholic narcissists are WAY worse than one, I had to choose my battles and those two were more than I could bear.

I basically got to run away. I left the rapist and 2 narcissists, thinking I could start over and new.  I just didn’t realize that the emotional shit storm of the rape would follow me, coupled with being an insignificant pig to all women in my life…would exhaserbate the Borderline Personality Disorder.

Insignificant Pig

 

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After daddy left I was the proverbial red-headed step child of my home.  During this time I watched a movie on HBO titled “Mommy Dearest” and became obsessed with wanting to understand more.  This movie is why my mother’ name used in my blog is Joan. Joan Crawford, movie star, classic narcissist, center of attention, gas lighting, mental & physical abuse, alcoholic, insecure, many men in her life, required the best of the best of everything, unrealistic expectations of others, always looked glamorous and had the facade mastered to boot. This was my mother, except for the movie star part.  Everyone loved my mom, her facade was unbreakable.
I was mothers proverbial punching bag.  I look just like my dad Clint, spitting image. I do things like him, we have similar hobbies and interests and mannerisms.  I was told daily in a condescending tone “You’re just like your father”.  Which was basically telling me or as I heard it “I hate you, you disgust me, you’re not good enough, change who you are, get out of my sight, don’t look at me that way, you disappoint me”.  Fantastic words for a preteen girl trying to find herself and her place in this world.

 

Along with this was also the deep pain of abandonment I felt when daddy moved out. He left me with her. Joan’s right, I’m not good enough or even a good girl, because maybe he would have stayed with me or took me with him. Why did he leave me with her?  I wasn’t mad at him though, just sad and hurt and scared.
I was insignificant.  How does a preteen get approval?  What’s society teaching her?  Who and what does she turn to?
First, she over compensates for approval from everyone.  She becomes friends with EVERYONE.  Jocks, stoners, geeks, pre-madonas and outcasts. I loved the movie Breakfast Club because they were all of my friends. I wish they casted a character like me because I know I’m not the only person whose life was like this.  The mommy issues I had made me afraid of women and the positive mom influences in my life were too hard to be around. I was jealous of my friends who had mom’s that cared, mom’s I wanted to have.  Which caused me to be leery of all girls or women, mom always said to “never trust another woman”.  Did she know something I didn’t and am I supposed to follow her words?  Maybe if I follow her words she’ll approve of me.  She trusted men, except for my dad, so she had plenty of male friends.
Daddy issues were abandonment and if I was better he’d approve of me and ask me to live with him.  Okay so how do I get men or boys to like me or approve of me, what do they want? So I followed mom’s lead; I dressed proactively, flirted, hung out with them, fawned over them, and tried to date as many as I could. This was all before the age of 15.  I drank with them, smoked weed, made out and became like a groupy.  They loved having me around and that’s where I got my start of feeling accepted and approved of. I felt significant and needed.
This was the beginning path of many of my traumas in life. I mastered this behavior, but the older I got the more they wanted from me.  It scared me, but the curiosity of having acceptance became my demise.
It became my pig.

Invisible Preteen

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Growing up I thought Wonder Woman’s invisible airplane was BADASS!  She could go anywhere and see everything yet no one could see her. It looked like glass on the t.v. show and was so shiny, and she was….beautiful! Perfect figure, hair, face, lips, eyes and boobs!  She was clever, physically fit and tough. She knew how to walk into a room and hold her own as Diana Prince, confident, smart and flirtatious.  I wanted that.
Ironically I got what I wanted, well almost got it all.  In 9th grade I mastered this Diana Prince. Except the figure, hair, face, lips and boobs. Yes I was a slender young thing, underdeveloped until I was 26 years old. Pretty enough but not heart stopping.  I stayed physically fit, had no fear, witty, flirtatious and radiated confidence.
Little did anyone know who I really was inside; a scared, insignificant, zero confidence little girl who fought to be noticed.
I didn’t get the invisible plane, but boy was I invisible.  After dad left and moved out-of-state with his new wife, my life was altered greatly.  My mom became a “born again barfly”, meaning she found her calling at a bar. It’s where she could escape being a mom, dress provocative, flirt, dance and most of all drink.  Her social life was way more important than me and Sis and our lives. Except Sis was her favorite and she gave her everything she ever wanted. Clothes, jewelry, muscle car and was a “yes” mom to her. I reminded her of my daddy and she gave me clothes from K-mart. She was never a “yes” mom to me, she was a “I don’t care what you do, where you are or who you’re with” mom.  She never spoke with me about sex, drugs, rape, caution, morals, guidance or family values.
Between the ages of 11 to 14 adolescents with healthy self-esteem may be least vulnerable to peer group pressure. When they are faced with difficult decisions, they are best able to call on values learned at home. I had no one to turn to in my preteens.  I learned it by watching movies, the at risk trouble makers in school and didn’t understand what peer pressure was.  I made friends with similar girls in my shoes. Absent mom, traveling dad, divorced parents and risky childhoods.
We got ourselves into so many moments where we should have been kidnapped, raped, murdered or addicted to drugs and alcohol. In the 8th grade we would throw parties that all the high schoolers would come to. We drank a lot of alcohol, smoked weed, made dance routines to Billy Idol songs, dressed proactively and went strolling the streets at midnight. Get into cars with strange 18 to 21 year olds and cruise. How we are both alive today is a flat-out miracle.
By the time I was 14 I did more in those previous 3 years than either of my parents ever did.  The friends I had before my parents divorced were an anomaly to me at that point. Parents still married, mom cooked dinner every night, mom did their laundry, drove them to sports practice and grew them up on solid Christian values. Between 11 to 14 is when I became an adult by force. I cooked my own meals, washed my own clothes, wasn’t allowed to do sports because it cost money, got myself up and to school when I did go to school, cleaned the house weekly and was substantially independent.  Mom always told me to be independent and to NEVER trust a man or woman ever!
Men are cheaters, women are ruthless and back stabbing and hopefully you’ll marry rich because you aren’t smart enough to have a career.
How does a preteen girl survive the 80’s when she’s invisible, scared, alone, confused, misguided and insignificant?  She discovers fight or flight, she survives.  She spins as fast as she can and she becomes Wonder Woman & Diana Prince all in one. She becomes an actress in her own life movie with the facade to boot.
How long can this girl survive like this? How long can she keep putting her lipstick on?